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Copyright In 0 01 


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OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 
OF LONG AGO 


THE 

LITTLE COUSINS OP LONG AGO 
SERIES 

— o — 

Each volume illustrated with full page 
plates in tints. 

Cloth, i^mo, with decorative cover. 

Per volume, $1.00 

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Our Little Athenian Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Carthaginian Cousin of Long 
Ago 

Our Little Celtic Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Crusader Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Feudal Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Frankish Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Macedonian Cousin of Long 
Ago 

Our Little Norman Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Roman Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Saxon Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Spartan Cousin of Long Ago 
Our Little Viking Cousin of Long Ago 
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THE PAGE COMPANY 

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“ ‘ ’tis a doo pasty! ' 


SHE CRIED 





The Little Cousins of Long Ago Series 


OUR LITTLE 
FEUDAL COUSIN 
OF LONG AGO 

Being the Story of the Little Master, Alan 
of Morven, a Boy of Scotland, in the 
Time of Robert the Second 


BY 

LAURA E. RICHARDS 

n 

Author of “The Hildcgarde-Margaret Series,” "Captain January, 
“ Melody,” “ Five Minute Stories.” “Honor Bright,” 
“Mrs. Tree,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

JOSEPHINE BRUCE 



BOSTON 

THE PAGE COMPANY 
MDCCCCXXII 





Copyright , 1913, 

By The Page Company 

Copyright , 1922 f 

By The Page Company 

All rights reserved 


Made in U. S. A. 


PRINTED BY C. H. SIMONDS COMPAQ 
BOSTON, MASS., U.S.Ai 

RUG “7 72 


©CI.A681273 



l 


HARRY SHAW 

A LITTLE KEY TO THE GREAT GATE 
THAT LEADS TO THE 
BALLAD COUNTRY 


f 





PREFACE 



HIS little book was published some years 


A ago under the title of “ The Little 
Master,” and was intended, as the dedication 
tells, as “ a key to the great gate that leads to 
the ballad country.” It is thought now that 
Alan Gordon and his sister Elspat may well 
join the company of Little Cousins of Long Ago 
with whom so many of our young people are 
making acquaintance. They certainly are our 
cousins, not in common humanity alone, but in 
blood and race, for we Americans, of English 
descent, claim near kinship with the Scots, and 
their traditions run side by side with ours. 
Especially is this the case with the old ballads, 
many of which are found, in different versions, 
on either side of the Border between England 
and Scotland. The minstrels, making their way 
from house to house, from castle to castle, had 
friends in every part of the country. In those 
days, when books were few, and none — as a rule 
— could read except the priests, the minstrel 
and his harp were eagerly welcomed by high 


Vll 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


and low. They wove into simple rhyme the 
wild doings, the wilder legends, of the country- 
side, Highland, Lowland, or Saxon ; and recited 
them, or sang to the wild, sweet music of their 
harps, while the hearers listened spellbound, 
often calling for a favorite ballad over and over 
till they knew it by heart, and so made it their 
own. It is to the minstrels that we owe much 
of our knowledge of old times in England and 
Scotland. 

The following pages tell in simple fashion of 
the life of a Scottish boy and girl in the four- 
teenth century, and of how David the harper 
helped them in their hour of need. 



April 12, 1922. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Long Ago and Long Ago . . . . 11 

II. The Smith’s Story. Valentine and Orson 21 

III. The Steward’s Story. Hynd Horn . . 33 

IV. Elspat’s Story. The Jolly Goshawk . 41 

V. Alan’s Story. Coo-my-doo ... 47 

VI. The Lady’s Story. Tamlane ... 52 

VII. The Falconer’s Story. The Bonny Mill- 

dams of Binnorie 58 

VIII. The Dairymaid’s Story. Leezie Lindsay . 64 

IX. The True Story Begins 68 

X. Otterbourne 79 

XI. The Captive 87 

XII. The White Maid of Newcastle ... 94 

XIII. All’s Well! 104 



























































LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

11 Tis a doo - pasty! ” she cried . . Frontispiece 

Oona, Alan and Elspat 14 

“ With that the beggar let fall his cloak, and 

THERE STOOD YOUNG HYND HORN ” . . . 40 

Up FROM BEHIND A BUSH STARTED YOUNG TAMLANE . 54 

With that he laughed and rode away ... 74 

TWO LITTLE HANDS CLASPING THE BARS OF A GRATED 

WINDOW 91 


) 












































































• * 










































































































































































































































































































































R 




















































































































































































































Our Little Feudal Cousin 
of Long Ago 

CHAPTER I 


LONG AGO AND LONG AGO 

ONG ago and long ago, in the Lowlands of 



Scotland, lived a boy just about your age, 
who was called the Little Master. He had an- 
other name, and that was Alan Gordon ; he was 
the son of a great Baron, and Master 1 was the 
title that belonged to him. It was a castle that 
he lived in, great and gray and old, with winding 
stone staircases, and queer narrow windows, and 
lofty turrets; yes, it was exactly like the pic- 
tures of castles in the story-books. You see, the 
pictures were made from real castles, not the 
other way. There the Little Master lived, with 
his father the Lord, and his mother the Lady, 
and his sister the Lady Elspat. These were the 
principal people, but there were many others 
in the castle, and every one of them his friend. 
There was the old nurse, Oona, who had been the 


*The notes will bo fonnd at the end of the book, 


12 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


Baron’s nurse when he was little, and who was 
now so old and white that she was more like a 
white shadow than a real woman, and yet so kind 
and dear that one loved to be with her; and there 
was Duncan the steward, her son, himself an old 
man; and there was John the smith, and Donald 
the falconer, and Leezie the dairymaid, and a 
dozen more of them, young and old. And be- 
side these was David Johnstone, the harper. 
David did not live in the castle; he wan- 
dered about the country with his harp, staying a 
night here and a night there, welcome wherever 
he went for the sake of his kindly face, the sweet- 
ness of his voice and harp, and the songs he 
sang. 

All these people the Little Master loved, first 
for themselves, because they loved him and were 
kind to him; secondly, for the stories they told 
and the songs they sang. For the Little Master, 
and little Lady Elspat, who was about your 
little sister’s age, loved songs and stories just as 
much as you do, and perhaps a good deal more; 
and they had no story-books: think of that! 
There were no books at all in the great old castle, 
and if there had been no one could have read 
them except Father Neil, the chaplain. I forgot 
Father Neil in my list of the Little Master’s 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


13 


friends, and that was a sad forgetting, for he was 
one of the best of them, and knew some of the 
very best stories of all. But, as I was saying, no 
one else could have read books if there had been 
any. Those were wild, rude times, long ago and 
long ago. Very few people could read or write, 
and the Baron thought it a foolish and an unmanly 
thing for a man to be seen poring over a written 
page. (There were no printed books in those 
days.) 

“ Knotting a man’s brains into cobwebs! ” he 
would say, when Father Neil would beg to be 
allowed to teach the Little Master to read and 
write. “ Not for my son! Set him on a horse, 
and let him ride till he drops asleep in the saddle; 
so shall we make a man of him, not with moth- 
eaten parchment scrawled with foolish signs.” 

All the same, the Little Master wished to learn, 
and hoped some day to persuade his father to allow 
it; but now he must be content with stories; and 
as I said, he heard many and many of them; for 
all the Scottish people loved stories, too, and do 
to this day; and in the want of books they stored 
their brains with tales and ballads, grave and gay, 
gentle and savage: of Border rides, fights, es- 
capes, brave deeds of rescue and heroism, cruel 
deeds of blood and revenge. All these the two 


14 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


children, Alan and Elspat, used to hear, over and 
over, till they knew them by heart; and then 
they liked them all the better, because if Oona 
or Duncan or David made a mistake of a single 
word they could correct it, and that was a pleasant 
thing to do. 

Suppose it was the story of Kempion that old 
Oona was telling, as she sat at her spinning-wheel, 
twirling the white flax in her fingers. 

They would be sitting on the wide landing at 
the head of the great stone staircase; all three 
close in the corner, to be out of the cold blast that 
whistled up the stairs; Alan on his three-legged 
stool (he called it a “ creepie ”) ; Elspat on the 
pretty little low cricket that Tam the joiner made 
for her, of walnut wood, with a wreath of daisies 
carved round it. The little girl wore a short 
frock of homespun cloth, or in summer of linen; 
wool and linen alike were spun by old Oona, and 
woven by the Lady and her maids at the looms 
that stood in the great stone workroom; but the 
boy’s frock or tunic was of soft leather, with a 
leather belt round it, and wooden buttons, carved 
by the same skilful Tam, into the likeness of 
animal’s heads, a dog, a horse, a wolf and a fox. 
Alan wanted a stag, but Tam said no, the horns 



OONA, ALAN AND ELSPAT, 










































THE LITTLE MASTER 


15 


would break too easily, and his buttons were to 
last him all his life. 

And what were the children like, inside these 
quaint clothes? Why, the Little Master was 
brown like his own coat, from running in sun and 
wind. His hair was brown too, and his eyes like 
dark diamonds. He could run like a hare, and 
whistle like a blackbird; he rode his pony bare- 
back, and he was learning to shoot straight and 
far. For the rest of him, you shall see for your- 
self what kind of boy he was. 

And little Elspat was just a posy out of a gar- 
den, so sweet and fair was she, with her yellow 
hair and her rosy cheeks. She could ride too, but 
not shoot. While Alan was practising with bow 
and arrow, she would be sewing her seam at her 
mother’s knee, or watching the weaving, or learn- 
ing from Oona how to twirl the flax for the spin- 
ning. 

But all this time poor Oona is waiting with her 
story to tell! 

“ ’Tis of a sweet young lassie,” said the old 
woman, “ as if it were sister to you, my bairn, 
but older, well on her way to be a woman; and 
ohon! and alas! Her mother dying when she was 
a wee bairn, and her father married again to the 
worst woman ever lived in this world. And this 


16 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

witch, for she was no better, put a cruel charm on 
the poor young thing, and turned her into a fiery 
snake, and bade her swim over the seas, and 
climb the Estmere Crags, and there bide. 

“ ‘ And never, never shall ye be saved/ she 
said, ‘ till Kempion, the king’s own son, come to 
the crag and thrice kiss thee. Till the world 
comes to an end, saved shall ye never be.’ So the 
poor young thing, she took her yellow hair about 
her and tried to flee, but that moment the change 
came, and she turned into the most fearsome 
dragon beast that ever ye saw.” 

“ I never will see one! ” cried little Elspat, 
shivering and drawing close to her brother. 

“ I would,” cried the Little Master, “ if there 
was one alive now. I wish there was, so that 
I might kill it. Is there one, do ye think, 
Oona? ” 

“Nay! nay, thank the good Lord!” the old 
nurse would say. “ This was before good Saint 
Patrick of Ireland came and drove out all the 
wicked snakes and dragons and the like. But 
this poor thing, now, she wasn’t wicked, ye see, 
for never the bit could she help herself. So there 
she stayed in a den, like, by the Estmere Crags, 
and all day long she cried on Kempion, if he would 
only come and save her. So word of that came 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


17 


to Kempion, the bravest prince that was in Scot- 
land, and he built a boat, and he and his brother 
sailed the sea till they came near the Estmere 
Crags; and there they could not come anigh the 
shore, for the fiery beast that she was flung her- 
self out of the den and struck the boat, and banged 
it as if she would have it in pieces. ‘ Be still! ’ 
the Prince bade her; but she cried all the louder, 
she never would quit her den till Kempion, the 
king’s own son, would come to the crag and kiss 
her three times.” 

“ Thrice, Oona! ” cried the Little Master. 
“ Not ‘ three times! ’ ” 

“ Sure, child, dear, ’tis the same,” the old nurse 
would say. “ Thrice, then, it was. So with that 
what did he do, the bold lad that he was, but bend 
over the crag and kiss her on the ugly snout of 
her. Into her hole she swung, and out she came, 
and worse than before, all fire and flames; and 
what but the same words over again, she never 
would come out of it till Kempion, the king’s own 
son, would come to the crag and kiss her thrice. 
So, child, dear, that was what he did, the bold 
young heart of him, that’s like your own, Master 
Alan. And with the third kiss, see now, what 
happened. All at once and behold, she changed 
from a flaming dragon to the most beautifulest 


18 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


maiden the sun ever shined on; and when he 
looked at her he saw — what would he see, El- 
spat, my bonnie? ” 

“ His own true love! ” cried little Elspat. “ Oh, 
this is the part I like. It was his own true love, 
and her hair came down in a golden cloak to her 
feet that were white as cream. Go on, Oona! ” 

“ And so it was! ” said the old woman. “ And 
ye may think how he grieved in his heart at the 
trouble that was put upon her. But now it was 
all past and gone, for he took the sweet young 
lady in his boat, his brother by to help him, and 
home they went to the king’s court, and there 
Kempion married his own true love, and she to 
tread on velvet and lie on satin the rest of her life. 

“ So there is the story, and now run away to 
your supper, the two of ye.” 

“ Good-by, Oona. Thank you for the story! ” 
cried the Little Master. “ Come, Elspat.” 

“ By, Oona,” said the little girl, throwing her 
arms around the nurse’s neck. “ Dear Oona! ” 

Then hand-in-hand the two children sped down 
the winding stone stair to the great hall, in a 
corner of which their little table was laid. 

What did they have for supper? Porridge 
(they called it “ parritch! ”) and milk — no 
sugar! and oatcake baked in the ashes. This was 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


19 


their supper and breakfast all the year round. 
They never thought of anything else. And for 
dinner — but we will tell about dinner another 
time. When they had finished their supper they 
would curl up together on the broad window-seat, 
and watch Duncan laying the table for my Lord’s 
and my Lady’s supper that was to follow; the 
plates and dishes of silver and pewter, the horn 
spoons (no forks in those days!), the gilt cup that 
the Queen had sent to my Lady on her marriage. 
Or they would gaze through the great window at 
the sunset sky with the dark trees against it, and 
the long sweep of the avenue; gaze eagerly till 
round the curve they saw the glitter of steel and 
heard the tramp of horses. Then down the long 
avenue, under the arching trees, would ride the 
Baron and his men, sometimes in hunting trim, 
with maybe a deer slung across the saddlebow 
of the chief huntsman, and each man of them 
dangling a rabbit or a brace of moorfowl; some- 
times from war, grim and dusty, with dark stains 
on their leather coats and bright armor. When 
they saw this, little Elspat would cry, and shudder, 
and run to hide her head in her mother’s lap; but 
Alan would throw his head back, and his eyes 
would flash and his hands clench. Was he not 
the Master of Morven, to be the Baron some far 


20 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

off day? When he was a man he would ride with 
his father, on hunting, yes, and on war-parties 
too. But just then, most likely, Oona would 
come, blinking over her little horn lantern, and 
off must go little Master and little Lady to bed, 
as if they were any cottager’s children instead of 
those of a noble Lord. 


CHAPTER II 

THE SMITH’S STORY. VALENTINE AND ORSON 

TT was a wild afternoon of wind and rain, and 
the Little Master could not ride out to try the 
young hawks, as he had meant to do. Elspat was 
at her embroidery lesson, and Duncan would not 
let him play at ball in the great hall because he 
had broken a pane of glass there the day before. 
Glass was a rare thing in those days, and the pane 
might go long unmended. Altogether the Little 
Master was feeling rather forlorn; he looked out 
into the courtyard, where the rain was beating 
and the gusts whirling. Presently from an open 
doorway came another kind of whirl, a puff of 
smoke shot through and through with fiery sparks; 
and at the same time, clink! clink! clink! came 
the friendly, musical chime of hammer on anvil. 
The Little Master’s brow cleared; he would go 
see John, the smith. There would be warmth and 
fight and friendliness. He ran down and across 
the court, and was soon there, shaking the rain- 
drops from his doublet. 

“ And what are you doing, John Smith? ” he 
asked. 


21 


22 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


The smith looked up with a friendly nod. 
“ You’re there, Little Master, eh? ” he said. 
“ What am I doing? See! the sword my Lord 
broke on his last foray. ’Tis a good blade, and 
I shall make a rare dirk of it. Hey! Gibbie, blow 
me the bellows there! ” 

Gibbie, a rough, clumsy lad about Alan’s own 
age, started forward, and in so doing jostled the 
Little Master, rubbing his sooty shoulder against 
the brown doublet. 

“ Out of my way, clumsy oaf! ” cried the Little 
Master, and struck the lad a swinging blow on the 
ear. He drew back with a dark look. 

“ Hoot, toot! ” said John, the smith. “ Softly! 
softly! be not hard upon Orson, young Valentine! 
God made ye both with one stir of His finger in 
the clay-pool behind the door.” 

“ I’m sorry, Gibbie,” said Alan, who seldom 
could hold anger for a full minute. “ I’ll fight 
you if you like; or — here! Take this pastry 
cake! Cook gave it me out of the oven. Nay, 
you shall eat it! ” and he thrust the dainty into 
the lad’s mouth before he could speak. “ There, 
John Smith, I have made amends. Now, show 
me the blade! ” 

The smith moved aside, and there on the anvil 
lay a broken sword — the hilt and perhaps half 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


23 


the blade — glowing ruddy white. Waves of 
light seemed to run up and down its length ; Alan 
thought he had never seen so beautiful a thing. 
Now the smith struck the glowing metal lightly, 
and the sparks flew out like drops of fire on either 
side. Taking it up in his tongs, he looked it all 
over carefully, and shook his head. 

“ Not yet! ” he said. “ Into the fire with you 
once more, my beauty! ” 

He nodded to Gibbie, who blew the bellows 
with right good will, the Little Master lending a 
hand. The flames leaped roaring up the chimney, 
the coals glowed red and white. Thrusting the 
blade among them, he heaped them over it, turn- 
ing it this way and that to meet the full strength 
of the fire; then drawing it out and laying it once 
more on the anvil, he fell to hammering and 
shaping the white-hot iron, humming to himself 
the while. 

The two boys watched eagerly. Gibbie was 
to be a smith too when he was man grown, and 
then he would make swords and daggers for his 
young lord, and that would be Alan. Perhaps 
both were thinking the same thought; but now 
another came into Alan’s mind. 

“ What were those names you called us but 
now, John Smith? Valentine, Orson? ’Tis a 


24 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


story, maybe. Tell it to us now! see, we are 
friends, aren’t we, Gibbie? ” 

Gibbie nodded, his mouth full of pastry; John, 
the smith, looked across his anvil well pleased. 

“ ’Tis a story, sure,” he said, “ a true tale my 
grandame told me. Long ago she died, but I 
mind the most of it and you shall hear it.” 

He bent over his work again, turning and 
shaping the glowing blade, and as he wrought he 
told the story of Valentine and Orson. 

“ Once upon a day, and it was the day of Saint 
Valentine, the King of France rode out a-hunting 
with his knights. King Pepin it was. I mind me 
of the name, always thinking it strange to call a 
King so near after an apple. He hunted here and 
there in the forest, and as he looked through a 
green bush he saw something shining on the 
ground. He came nearer, and what was it but a 
new-born babe, wrapped in a mantle of gold that 
was pinned with a silver pin, and lying on a ker- 
chief of scarlet silk. ’Twas a fair child, white as 
snow, with rose-red cheeks; and as the King 
looked it held out its arms and smiled like any 
cherub. So the King, who was kind of heart as 
any simple man, bade his knights take up the 
child and bring it home to court; and, since it 
was Saint Valentine’s Day, he named the babe 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


25 


Valentine, and had him well and tenderly reared 
till he grew up a good knight and true. Now the 
very day that Valentine was made a knight came 
three pilgrims to the King making great outcry. 
There was a wild boy, they said, in Artois forest, 
who made destruction of everything that came 
within his reach, being strong as a bear, and sav- 
age as one: looked like a bear, too, they said, and 
altogether a fearsome thing. No one in that 
countryside dared go near him, and would King 
Pepin send help? 

“ When Valentine heard that he cried out for 
joy. ‘ Let me go, Master King/ he said, ‘ so I 
shall have my first knight’s adventure! ’ So the 
King gave him his blessing and a good sword, 
which was worth three of it, and Sir Valentine 
mounted his horse and rode off to Artois forest. 
No sooner there but he saw the savage boy: a 
big, strong youth, of his own age or thereabout. 
He was shaggy as a bear, with the thick, brown 
hair that was on him, and for all his clothing a 
bear-skin over his shoulders, and in his hand a 
great, knotted club the size of my biggest sledge 
there.” The smith nodded at a huge hammer 
that hung against the wall. “ When the man- 
bear saw young Valentine he up with his club and 
at him with a growl and a roar as of twenty bears 


26 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


in one; but the knight was ready for him with his 
good blade, and I warrant you he roared in other 
fashion when he first felt cold steel.” 

“ What like was the sword? ” asked the Little 
Master. “ Was it like the great two-handed one 
that hangs in the hall? ” 

“ E’en just! ” said John, the smith. “ And you 
may guess how the taste of it came to him. Well, 
’twas a stout battle, strength to skill, knotty oak 
to shiny steel, but it ended the right way, and the 
bear-lad came to court, who but he, tied to the 
tail of Sir Valentine’s charger. At first he drooped 
and pined, but Valentine had that goodness and 
gentleness in him — mind that, my little Lord! 
— that he tamed the wild spirit of the lad till he 
had him like the dog that licked his hand, and 
taught him this and showed him that, till he grew 
a true and gentle squire to Valentine, and the 
two were like brothers for love. 

“ Now, there is half the story for you,” said 
John Smith, “ and for the other half ye must wait 
till I cool my blade in the water. Hey, there, 
Gibbie! shut thy mouth and open thine eyes, and 
fetch the bath! ” 

Gibbie ran, and brought from a dusky corner 
a long wooden box or trough, full of water. The 
smith held up the dagger, still glowing rosy white; 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


27 


then he plunged it into the cold water, and it 
hissed like the fiery snake in the old nurse’s story. 
The brightness went out of it, and it lay black 
and lifeless. 

“ There! ” said John Smith. “ Lie there 
awhile, my beauty, and cool thy hot temper a bit. 
Finished, Master? Nay! nay! there’s a mort 
of work yet before ’tis finished. This, look you, 
is to be as pretty a bit of steel as ever Lord wore 
at his belt. After this must come the oil bath, 
and then the rubbing down, and then the polish- 
ing, and then — whew! ’tis hot work enough, so 
it is! ” 

“ Sit ye down and rest, John Smith!” cried 
Alan; “ and while you rest, you can finish the 
story! ” he added slyly. “ You left it cut in the 
middle like an apple.” 

The smith rubbed his sooty hand across his 
forehead. 

“ The story! ” he said. “ ’Tis more of supper 
than story I’m thinking now, Little Master. But 
you’re right: a promise is a promise, full or fast- 
ing. Sit ye down again, and we’ll have it. Where 
was I now? The work has driven the play clean 
out of my slow butter-wits.” 

“ Valentine was grown up a knight! ” said the 
Little Master, 


28 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


“ He had fought the wild boy! '' said Gibbie. 

“ And made him tame, and was good to him! ” 
said the Master. 

“ And his name was Orson! ” both boys ended 
together. 

“ So 'twas! ” said John the smith. “ Meaning 
a bear, or some such, from his breeding and man- 
ners, though now he had left those behind. 

“ Well, sirs, so lived they happily at the King's 
court till one day some popinjay made game of 
Valentine for that he was a foundling and knew 
not his parents' name. Right mad was the young 
knight at that, and vowed he would not rest till 
he found those parents, were they living on earth. 
So to horse, and off he went, and Orson running 
beside him as fast as the steed could trot, his club 
over his shoulder. 

“ See now, lads, 'twould take the night to tell 
all these two saw and did; but at the last they 
came to a strange place. A great castle — " 

“ As big as this? " asked Alan. 

“ Four of this would not make it! And set in 
the middle of a lake, and leading to it a fair bridge, 
shining with silver and gold. Now who so glad 
as those two lads? 

“ But what happened? No sooner did they set 
foot on that fair bridge than out rang a peal of 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


29 


bells, full a hundred of ’em, that were hid under 
bridge where none might see them. With that 
the gate of the castle flew open and out came a 
giant, huge and grim.” 

“ How big was he? ” cried the boys. 

“ Oh, tall as a steeple and big as a hogshead! 
And he grinning with rage and brandishing a great 
mace set with steel spikes. He rushed at Valen- 
tine and he at him, and a great fight they had. 
Sparks flew like from my big sledge there when 
the iron is white-hot; and the giant roaring and 
yelling, and Valentine crying knightly words, no 
doubt, such as might fit. 

“ Ah, but lads, now the knight’s good horse 
stumbled on a loose stone and fell with him, and 
at that the giant saw his chance and lifted his 
wicked mace to dash the lad’s brains out. But 
even as he stooped down came a thundering blow 
on his own ugly head that sent him rolling on the 
ground, and over him stood faithful Orson with 
his club, and soon crushed the wicked life out of 
his body. Then those two lads gave thanks to 
Heaven as was meet: and loving thanks gave 
Valentine to his good brother, too, who stood by 
him so well. And then took the keys from the 
dead monster’s girdle and so to search the castle. 

“ Well, sirs, as I said, the night would spend in 


30 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


the telling what they found there, of slain folk, 
and gold, and treasure without end; but at last, in 
a dark cell, who was there but a gentle lady, all 
forlorn with weeping and sorrow. Then who so 
kind as Valentine to dry her tears and lead her 
out into the sunlight, and when he had her com- 
forted a bit, asked how she came there, and lo 
ye! the sad story of it! 

“ Seemed she was a Queen, and had known all 
joy and fortune, till one day a wicked ruffian slan- 
dered her to the King her husband, saying evil 
things of her; and he, foolish man (for Kings be 
but like other folk, lads!), believed the liar, and 
sent his own true sweet lady from his door. Weep- 
ing and wandering she went, hither and thither, 
till one day, in a deep, green woodland, two man- 
babes were born to her. The fairest babes in the 
world they were, she said, though one was rough 
with hair all over his body. 

“ But see what sorrow followed this poor dame! 
For, as she tended her babes there under the green 
trees, a bear rushed from the thicket and bore 
off the younger child in his jaws. The poor 
mother ran after as best she might, but swooned 
away from grief and weakness and lay long like 
one dead. 

“ ‘ And better dead might I have been/ said 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


31 


that poor dame, ‘ for when I came to myself, my 
other babe, that I left wrapped in a scarlet ker- 
chief on the ground, was gone, he also; nor from 
that woeful day have I ever seen either of my 
pretty babes again. Longing for death, I cared 
the less when this giant took me captive, and here 
in his castle I have lain ever since/ 

“ ‘ But, lady/ said Valentine, ‘ would you know 
the scarlet kerchief that wrapped your babe? ’ 

“ With that he knelt on one knee and pulled 
forth the cloth in which himself had been found: 
lo, ye! it was the selfsame one, and Valentine 
had found his mother. Happy hour was that: 
and still happier when Valentine told the Lady 
Bellisance (for he knew her story at court, and she 
King Pepin’s own dear sister!) that the villain 
who slandered her was dead, and in dying owned 
his crime of lying to her hurt. Then that sweet 
lady blessed God and embraced her newfound 
son. 

“‘But who is this hairy youth?’ she asked; 
‘ he much resembles thee. The bear devoured my 
younger babe, or sure that babe were he.’ 

“ Then Valentine told how this lad was bred 
with bears, and found in their den. 

“ ‘ Is there any mark/ he asked, ‘ by which 
you would know your son again? ’ 


32 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


“ 6 Ay! ’ she said; ‘ a crimson rose was stamped 
on his side.’ 

“ ‘ See, lady! ’ cried Valentine, 1 here shines the 
mark today. My brother! oh, happy, happy 
day! ’ 

“ And happy day it was for the three of them, 
and happy years to follow, with joy and fortune 
and all good things. And in after times Valentine 
was King of France, and Orson King in his father’s 
room, in Greece I mind it was. And here endeth 
the tale, and time, too, for a voice within me cries 
1 Kitchen! ’ louder than ever minstrel sang ballad. 
Away with ye, lads, and let me shut up my forge 
and home! ” 


CHAPTER III 


THE STEWARD^ STORY. HYND HORN 

' | 'HE great hall of the castle was a wonderful 
place to play in. It was so long that when 
you were at one end the other end looked dim and 
shadowy even by daylight, though to be sure this 
was partly because the windows were small and 
high up, and there were not many of them. There 
was not much furniture. The great oaken table 
stood at one end, with the straight-backed chairs 
around it, and at the head the Baron’s great chair 
with the wolf’s-heads carved on the arms. Then 
there was a high screen, covered with leather that 
had once been gilded, and a high-backed settle 
or two, and the huge sideboard or dresser where 
Duncan kept the platters and tankards of silver 
and pewter and the few bits of china, the Lady’s 
posset-cup, and the flowered bowl from which 
little Elspat ate her bread and milk. And there 
was the enormous fireplace, with the black iron 
“ dogs ” and some wolf skins and deer skins in 
front of it; and that was all, except — a very 
important exception, the Little Master would 
33 




34 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


have said — the banners and weapons and old 
armor that hung on the wall. 

We will talk about those another time, but now 
I must say again that the hall was a wonderful 
place to play in. You could run races, and it did 
not take many turns to put Elspat quite out of 
breath. Or you could be robbers or dragons and 
live in the Darksome Dens at the farther end, 
away from the table and the fire, and rush out on 
the people who passed through. When you were 
dragons you threatened to devour them, but 
when you were robbers you just carried them to 
your secret hold and they had to tell a story by 
way of ransom. Most often it was Cripple Giles, 
the lame kitchen boy who helped Duncan some- 
times; but he was not a very interesting captive, 
for he knew only one story, and that was very 
short. This was it: 


“ Said the man to Sandy, ‘ Will ye lend me a mill? ’ 
Said the man to Sandy, ‘ Will ye lend me a mill? ’ 
Said the man to Sandy, ‘ Will ye lend me a mill? 9 
‘ Of course I will! ’ said Sandy. 

“ And Sandy lent the man a mill, 

And the man had the loan of Sandy’s mill. 

1 Will ye lend me a mill? 9 said Sandy; 

‘ Of course I will! ’ said the man.” 


the Little master 


35 


Duncan was usually too busy to play or tell 
stories — that is, he never would be a captive 
in the Darksome Dens; but sometimes, if he felt 
very well (Duncan had rheumatism a good deal), 
he would be a besieged garrison behind the tall 
screen, and he made a fine one. 

One day the children saw him sitting on his 
high stool beside the dresser, polishing the great 
silver grace-cup with a bit of soft leather, and 
humming to himself — it was always a good sign 
when Duncan hummed. The children looked at 
each other. 

“ Shall we? ” whispered Elspat. 

“ Yes! ” nodded the Little Master. 

Down they went on hands and knees, and crept 
behind the great screen. It was wide as well as 
high, and they could creep along behind it till 
they were near the besieged garrison. The garri- 
son sat all unconscious, polishing and humming, 
something with a refrain of 

“ With a hey lillelu and a howlo lan! ” 

Suddenly a cry rang in his ears. 

“ Sound out, trumpets! up scaling ladders!" 

In another minute the Little Master was 
on his knee, waving a flag, and Elspat had 


36 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

her arms around his neck, and both were cry- 
ing: 

“ Yield! yield, or we put ye to the sword! ” 

“ I yield me! I yield me! ” cried the steward. 
“ Have a care of the grace-cup, my Lord. Ye well- 
nigh knocked it out of my hand.” 

He set the cup carefully on the dresser and looked 
at it proudly. 

“ There’s a polish, little Lady! ” he said. “ Like 
moon on the moat, no less. Yes! Yes! it takes 
a knack, d’ye see! it takes a knack.” 

“ You are a prisoner! ” shouted the Little 
Master, waving his flag. 

“ So I be; so I be! ” said the steward. “ A 
poor, doleful captive, to be sure. Shall we treat 
for ransom now, Sir Knight? There’s a sweet cake 
in the cupboard herd, and comfits in it.” 

“ Sweet cake and story! ” cried the children; 
“ both, or no ransom, and the Darksome Dens 
for life.” 

“ That were sair, indeed,” said the steward. 
“ ’Tis a heavy ransom, but if must needs, then 
needs must. Sit ye down, the pair of ye, on the 
dresser here, for story or no story I must finish 
my polishing. Well, a-well! and what shall it 
be? Have ever I told ye the story of Hynd 
Horn?” 


THE LITTLE MASTER 37 

“ Nay,” said Elspat. “ Ye spoke of it once, 
but got no further.” 

“ Well, now shalt have it. ’Tis a bonny tale 
for lassies and lads, too. Seems there was once 
a youth lived near the King’s court — ” 

“ What King? ” the Little Master broke in. 
“ King Pepin of France? ” 

“ Nay, nay! ” said the steward. “ No French 
frog-eaters, but a good King of bonny Scotland. 
As to just which one it was I misdoubt me, but 
maybe ’twas Malcolm Canmore , 2 of whom they 
tell so many tales. However that be, there the 
lad lived, and there grew up, straight as a young 
tree, and well-nigh as tall. And he took service 
with the King, and all for the sake of his daughter 
Jean, that was fairer than the lily of the lake and 
white as that. But when the King found the 
love that was between the two an angry man was 
he. He banished young Hynd Horn from the 
court, and bade him go sail the salt seas over. 
Go he must and go he did, but before he sailed 
he saw his own true love once more, and she gave 
him a gay gold ring with three shining diamonds 
set therein. 

“ ‘ So long as these stones shine bright and 
clear/ said the maiden, ‘ you’ll know that all is 
well; but if they lose their color and their light 


38 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

then something has come between you and 
me/ 

“ With that they parted as fond lovers do, and 
Hynd Horn sailed away, and the maid stayed weep- 
ing at home. Seven long years he journeyed 
hither and yon, now by sea and now by land, and 
often he looked on his ring to see if all was well 
with his true love, and always the diamonds shone 
up at him, only less bright than Lady Jean’s 
eyes. But one day when he looked at his ring 
the stones had no light for him, but hung all cold 
and dead in their ring of gold. Then Hynd Horn 
said: ‘ Woe is me! Some ill has befallen.’ And 
he hoisted his brown sails and away home to his 
own country. 

“ Come to land, the first he met was an old 
beggar-man, and he asked him for the news: 
i For,’ says he, ‘ ’tis seven long years since I’ve 
seen this land.’ 

“ ‘ There’s no news,’ said the old beggar-man, 
1 or only such a scrap as I could put in my pouch, 
and that’s that our King’s only daughter is to be 
married to-day.’ 

“ ‘ Now,’ said Hynd Horn, ‘ give me your 
beggar’s coat, and I’ll give you my scarlet cloak 
instead; and give me your old pike-staff and hat, 
and you shall be right well paid for that.’ 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


39 


“ The old man wondered more than a little, but 
surely he asked no better, and in short space 
he was off to the mill, who but he, in a fine scarlet 
cloak, with white silver in his pouch, and Hynd 
Horn was away to the King’s palace dressed in 
the beggar’s rags, with his old hat pulled down 
over his brows. No one might know him, even 
were it not for the long years since he had come 
there. He knocked at the gate, and when the 
porter asked what he came seeking he said: ‘ I ask 
a drink for the sake of young Hynd Horn.’ 

“ Now that word came to the bonny bride where 
she sat in her bower, sad at heart; and when she 
heard the name of Hynd Horn she rose up in her 
satin gown* with the gold combs in her hair, and 
took a golden cup in her hand and came tripping 
down the stair. 

“ She looked kindly on the beggar-man and held 
out the cup : ‘ For any one who asks in that name,’ 
she said , 1 shall gain what he seeks.’ 

“ He drank from the cup, and then into it he 
dropped the ring and gave it back to the lady. 
When she saw that she cried out, and her hand 
went to her heart: 

“ * Oh! got ye this by sea or by land, 

Or got ye it off a dead man’s hand? ’ 


40 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


“ For they had told her, d’ye see, little Lord 
and Lady, that her lover was cold and dead. And 
he said, as the song tells it : 

“ 1 1 got it not by sea nor by land, 

Nor got I it off a dead man’s hand; 

But I got it at my wooing gay, 

And I give it to you on your wedding-day/ 

“ Oh! but who then so glad as Lady Jean? 

“ ‘ I’ll cast away my satin gown,’ 
she cried, 

“ 1 And follow you from town to town; 

And I’ll take the gold combs from my hair, 

And follow you forever mair.’ 

“ With that the beggar let fall his cloak, and 
there stood young Hynd Horn, and shone like a 
Prince with gold and jewels; and all that saw 
them cried out ’twas shame and sorrow that ever 
such fair and true lovers should have been parted. 
And so there was a wedding indeed that day, but 
young Hynd Horn was the bridegroom, and what 
became of the other the song says naught of, nor 
did I ever care. 

“ Now, little Lord and Lady, there is your story, 
and have I paid my ransom well? ” 





WITH THAT THE BEGGAR LET FALL HIS CLOAK, AND THERE 
STOOD YOUNG HYND - HORN.” 























































* 

































CHAPTER IV 


elspat’s story, the jolly goshawk 

“ yAONALD,” said little Elspat, “ is that a 
goshawk? ” 

“ A goshawk it is, my little lady,” said Donald 
the falconer, stroking the bird that was perched 
on his wrist; “ and as fine a one as is in Scotland 
this day. Look at the beauty of him; see how he 
holds his head up. That’s for pride, d’ye see. 
The goshawk is a proud bird; like a lord among 
birds he is, as it might be my Lord your father.” 

“ Is he jolly? ” asked the little girl. 

“ Jolly? ” repeated Donald. “ I don’t rightly 
know whether he is jolly or not, little lady; 
but his crop is full of good corn, and he knows he 
is going out for sport soon to the green wood. 
Yes, yes! jolly enough he will be, I’m thinking.” 

“ Why don’t you ask him? ” said Elspat. 
“ Cannot all goshawks speak? ” 

“ Never a one that e’er I met with, my Lady! ” 
said the falconer, with a puzzled look. “ What 
notion is in your pretty head now? Parrots speak, 
and the like outlandish birds; but a good Scottish 
hawk — nay! nay! he has other work to do 
41 


42 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


than talking, that is only good for chattering 
mortals.” 

“ I know what she means! ” said the Little 
Master, who was standing by one of the perches, 
feeding a splendid falcon, who shook his smooth 
plumage and clawed the boy’s sleeve for pleasure 
as he snatched one morsel after another from his 
hand. “ She is thinking of the Goshawk ballad 
that Mother sang us last even. That is not true, 
Elspat. ’Tis only an old story, like all the bal- 
lads.” 

“ Nay! but some of them are true, Alan! ” 
cried the little girl; “ true as true, for Mother 
said so.” 

“ Oh! yes, the fighting ballads,” said the boy; 
“ they are true enough; but this kind is — well, 
it’s different. ’Tis next neighbor to a fairy story, 
child.” 

“ ’Tis pretty all the same,” said Elspat, “ and 
ye need not be calling me child, Alan, that are none 
so very old yourself. Would you like to hear it, 
Donald? ” she asked wistfully. 

“ ’Deed and I would, then! ” said the falconer, 
heartily. “ Any tale that you told would be good 
to hear, my little lady-lass; and when ’tis about 
a hawk, ye see, why — ’tis as it were made for 
me, d’ye see? And who knows but the birds them- 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


43 


selves will be pleased? ” he added, stroking his 
favorite again. “ Listen now, Lightning; hear to 
the little lady! ” 

The hawk gave a short scream, and clawed 
Donald’s hand. 

“ ‘ Go on! ’ he says; ” said the falconer. “ He’s 
hungry for it.” 

“ Well! ” said Elspat. “ It was a young knight, 
was parted from his true maiden; mostly they 
all do be! ” she added, a little sadly. “ And he 
called his jolly goshawk, and told him ’twas well he 
could speak and flee, for he must take a message 
to his true love from him. 

“ * But how will I know her? ’ asked' the hawk, 
1 when I never set eyes on her? ’ So he told him, 
four and twenty ladies would be coming home from 
the mass, and well he would know his true-love, 
the fairest lady there. So off the bird flew, and 
came to the castle, and lighted on the ash tree, and 
sang a song about their love, the knight’s and 
the lady’s. So when the sweet lady heard that, 
she came to the window, and the goshawk threw 
her the letter he had brought in his beak all the 
way. And he sai<d she was to send her lover a 
send, for he had sent her two; and tell him 
where he might see her soon, or he could not 
live. 


44 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


“ Then the lady said; wait now, till I mind the 
words! She said. 

“ ‘ I send him the ring frae my finger, 

The garland frae my hair; 

I send him the heart from out my breast, 

What would my love have mair? 

And at the fourth kirk in fair Scotland 
Ye’ll bid him wait for me there.’ 

“ Then the goshawk flew back, and the lady went 
to her father and asked would he give her what 
she would ask for. And he said, never beg him 
for that Scottish knight, for never more should 
she see him. 

“ Nay, she said, but just an asking; that if she 
died in fair England, he would take her to Scot- 
land to be buried. At the first church in Scotland 
they should let all the bells be rung; at the second 
church they should sing hymns and prayers for 
her; at the third church they should deal gold 
for her sake; and at the fourth church they should 
bury her. Is that right, Alan? ” 

“ Right enough,” said the Little Master. “ But 
the best part is to come.” 

“I know! I know!” cried Elspat. “ Her 
father said yes, she might have that asking, but 
why did she talk so, when she wasna going to die? 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


45 


And then she went to her chamber, and she took 
a sleepy draught, and she fell down all pale and 
cold as any corpse. ‘ She’s dead!' said her 
mother. But the old witch-wife said, 1 Maybe 
ay and maybe no! But drop the hot lead on 
her cheek, and drop it on her chin, and drop it on 
her bosom white, and she’ll maybe speak again.’ 
For she knew about her true love, ye see, Donald, 
and she said ’twas much a young lady would do, 
to win to her true love. So they did that, cruel 
that they were; but she never stirred nor spake, 
so they thought she was dead indeed, and they 
made her a gown of satin and a coffin of cedar with 
silver edges; and they started with the funeral 
train for bonny Scotland. But now, ye see, Don- 
ald, the goshawk had told his master all she bade 
him; and when the funeral train came to the 
fourth church in bonny Scotland, there was the 
knight with all his merry young men, waiting for 
them. And he bade them set down the bier, till 
he should look on her; for the last time he saw 
her, she was bright as a rose, he said. So then he 
stripped the sheet down from her face, and — oh, 
Donald! what think you? the lady opened her 
eyes and looked full at him. And ‘ Oh! ’ she said, 
* give me a piece of your bread, love, and let 
me drink of your cup, for long I have fasted for 


46 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


your sake/ And she bade her seven brothers, 
that brought her there, go home again and blow 
their horns. And she said, she did not come to 
bonny Scotland to lie down in the clay, but she 
came to wear the silks so gay ; nor came she among 
the dead to rest, but she came to bonny Scotland 
to the man that she loved best. And that is the 
end, Donald; and is it not a bonny story? And 
do ye think Lightning understood it? ” 

“ And if he did not,” said Donald, “ he is not 
the hawk I take him for.” 


CHAPTER V 


alan’s story, coo-my-doo 

“ TAON’T ye think maybe it might be true, 
-■^Alan, about the goshawk? Don’t ye think 
Lightning could speak to us if he only would? ” 
“ I don’t think it,” said the Little Master. “ I 
have tried to make him, often and often, but he 
will never say a word. I think it’s only a story 
like Coo-my-doo.” 

“ Tell me Coo-my-doo!” cried little Elspat. 
“ Is’t a new tale? Did Donald tell ye? ” 

“ Ay! ” said the Little Master. “ Yesterday 
it was, out in the forest. We sat under the great 
oak to eat our dinner, and Donald told me the 
tale. If I tell it now will you mend my net, Elsie? ” 
“ Indeed and I will! ” cried the little girl. “ I’d 
mend it without a story, Alan, but I’d like it fine 
with one.” 

Out came her housewife, a pretty red leather 
case with silver edges that the Baron had brought 
her from the great city; down she sat on her own 
little stool in the corner of the great fireplace, 
slipped on her tiny thimble and took up the broken 
net and set busily to work. The Little Master, 
47 


48 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


nodding his thanks, stretched himself at full 
length on the white bearskins, and kicked his 
heels thoughtfully in the air. 

“ It was thinking of the Jolly Goshawk," he 
said, “ made Donald call this tale to mind. Once 
upon a time Earl Mar's daughter was playing 
under an oak tree, and she saw a fair white doo 
sitting on a branch." 

“ Mother says 'tis ‘ dove ’ in the English!" 
said little Elspat. 

“ Maybe so," replied the Little Master. “ But 
’tis ‘ doo 9 in Scots and this is a Scots tale. 1 So/ 
says she to the doo, 

“ ‘ Oh, Coo-my-doo, my Love so true, 

If ye’ll come down to me 
Ye’ll have a cage of good red gold, 

Instead of simple tree.’ 

“ No sooner had she said the words than down 
flew the doo and lighted on her head and cooed 
sweetly. So she took him home to her bower and 
petted him and gave him sweets and made much 
of him; and he ate from her hand, and cooed, and 
shook his white wings, and no one ever saw so fair 
a bird. But when the sun set, all of a sudden he 
changed from a bird into a beautiful prince dressed 
in white velvet and gold. The lady was sore sur- 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


49 


prised at that, and asked him who he was and 
where he came from, and he said he had just 
flown across the sea that very day. ‘ My mother 
is a queen/ he said, ‘ and she knows magic, too; 
she turned me into a doo, s ( o that I could fly 
about wherever I liked, but now that I have seen 
you I don’t want to fly any more.’ 

“ Then the lady s'aid : ‘ Oh, Coo-my-doo, my 
Love so true, you must never leave me.’ 

“ And he said he wouldn’t, and so he stayed 
with her and they were very happy, and nobody 
knew anything about it, for whenever any one 
was coming he turned back into a doo, you 
see. 

“ Well, but after a long time there came along 
a lord of high renown and wanted to marry her, 
and brought her fine presents.” 

“ What kind of presents? ” asked Elspat. 

“ Oh, I don’t know! Gold combs, I suppose, 
and other woman’s gear! ” said the Little Master, 
rather loftily. “ But she said no, she didn’t want 
them or him either, and she would rather stay at 
home with her bird, Coo-my-doo. Then Earl Mar 
was very angry, and he said : 

“ * To-morrow, ere I eat or drink, 

That bird I’ll surely kill/ 


50 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


“ But Coo-my-doo was sitting in his golden cage 
and heard what he said. 

“ ‘ ’Tis time I was away ! ’ said he. So off he flew, 
over the sea and far away till he came to his 
mother’s castle. It had gold towers, and he 
lighted on one and his mother saw him. 

“ 1 Get dancers for to dance/ she said, 

1 And minstrels for to play, 

For here’s my dear son Florentine 
Come back with me to stay/ 

“ But he told her he wanted neither dancers nor 
minstrels; he wanted twenty-four strong men 
turned into storks, and his seven sons into swans, 
and himself into a gay goshawk. 

“ The Queen said that was pretty hard work, 
but she would try, and so she did, and soon 
she had them all turned, and off they flew 
over the sea again with Coo-my-doo — only now 
he was a goshawk, you know — at their head. 

“ They got back to Earl Mar’s castle only just 
in time, for he was going to make his daughter 
marry the lord whether she would or no, and though 
she wept sore, he said she must. So the wedding 
party was all ready and just coming out of the 
castle to go to the church, when a great rustling 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


51 


sound was heard overhead. Everybody looked 
up, and there was a goshawk flying like the wind, 
and behind him seven swans, and behind them 
twenty-four great gray storks. Nobody had ever 
seen such a sight, and they all stared with their 
mouths open, but before they had time to shut 
them, down flew the birds right among them! 
The storks seized the strong men and held them 
tight, so that they could not move; the swans 
caught the bridegroom and tied him fast to a 
tree; while the goshawk lighted on the bride’s 
shoulder and whispered in her ear, and the next 
moment came the swans and whirled round her 
and caught her up in the air; the goshawk led 
the way, the storks followed, and away they all 
flew over the sea to his kingdom and never were 
seen again. 

“ The wedding people stared and stared, and 
rubbed their eyes, and thought they must be 
dreaming; but Donald ended it like this, out of 
the old ballad: 

“ 1 Naething could the company do, 

And naething could they say; 

But they saw a flock of pretty birds 
That took their bride away.’ ” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE LADY’S STORY. TAMLANE 

“ IV /T OTHER,” said little Elspat, “ if I should 

1V1 g 0 greenwood would Tamlane be 

there? ” 

The Lady of the Castle looked up from her 
embroidery. “ Tamlane! ” she repeated. “ What 
has put Tamlane into my lassie’s head? ” 

“ Oona was telling me about him,” said Elspat 
timidly. 

“ Oona had little to do, filling your head with a 
parcel of old tales! ” said the Lady gravely; but 
the next moment she looked up, and meeting the 
child’s wondering eyes, a smile broke over her 
sweet face. 

“ But truth to tell, lassie,” she added, “ when 
I was your age I would often be thinking of young 
Tamlane myself.” 

“ Who is young Tamlane, Mother? ” cried the 
Little Master, who came running in at this mo- 
ment, with a great deerhound puppy gamboling 
at his heels. “ Down, Wallace! down, I tell 
thee. Is Tamlane a lad, Mother? ” 

“ Oh! Alan,” cried Elspat; “ ’tis the bonniest 

52 


THE LITTLE MASTER 53 

tale of all! Tell him, Mother, will you? Ah! do 
now, sweet, my dear! ” 

“ Do, Mother! ” echoed the boy. “ You are 
aye telling Elspat tales; I never hear the half of 
them.” 

“ If you were a douce lassie, instead of a hilty- 
skilty laddie,” said the Lady, “ you would hear 
them all, Alan. Would you like to learn to sew 
your seam and do your broidery, like a lassie, eh? ” 

“ Indeed, no! ” cried the boy, tossing his head 
scornfully. “ I wouldna be a lassie for all — ” 

“ Alan, Mother was a lassie one time!” said 
little Elspat. 

“ And Father was a laddie,” said the Lady, 
smiling; “ and Tamlane — Well, sit ye down, 
Alan, and you shall hear who Tamlane was. 

“ ’Tis an old, old story, and it begins telling 
how Fair Janet sat in her bower alone, sewing her 
milk-white seam, when there came a longing on 
her for the sweet greenwood.” 

“ Ah! ” said Elspat with a sigh. “ Often have 
I felt that same, Mother dear.” 

“ And often do you go, little one, but not alone, 
as Janet went. For she let fall her seam, and 
away to Carterhaugh, that was a deep forest hard 
by her father’s hall. When she came there she 
began to pull the wildflowers; when up from be- 


54 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


hind a bush started young Tamlane, the fairy 
knight, and he all in fairy green, with gold about 
his neck and a bright star on his brow. At first 
he chid her for pulling the flowers; but when he 
saw how fair she was he spoke sweetly to her, and 
his voice was like running water. ’Tis long to 
tell, children, but between this and that, these two, 
Fair Janet and the fairy knight, became lovers 
true and dear. But there was a trouble at Jan- 
et’s heart, and she asked the young knight had he 
ever been christened in God’s name. He told 
her yes, he was a knights and a lady’s son, and as 
well christened as she herself. 

“J But,’ he said, ‘ three years ago a strange 
chance came to me. I rode out a-hunting one 
day, and as I rode over yon high hill there blew 
upon me a drowsy, drowsy wind, so that my eyes 
closed for all I could do, and I fell from my horse 
in a dead sleep. It was the Queen of Fairies 
sent that wind, Janet; <she took me away to 
Fairyland, and there I have lived ever since. But 
to-morrow night is Hallowe’en, when the Fairy 
Court rides through the land, and you can rescue 
me if you will. At midnight, go and stand by 
Miles Cross, and make a circle with holy water. 
Then by will come the fairies, three bands of 
them. The first band that rides by, take no heed 



u 


}) 


UP FROM BEHIND A BUSH STARTED YOUNG TAMLANE 




































' 






















































































































































THE LITTLE MASTER 


55 


of them. The second band that rides by, salute 
them reverently. The third band that rides by 
is clad in robes of green, and that is the head court 
of all, and in it rides the Queen, and I upon a 
milk-white steed, with a bright star in my crown. 
Pull me from my horse, Janet, and hold me tight, 
whatever happens. Whatever shape I take, 
whatever pain you feel, hold me fast, for if you 
loose your hold I am lost forever/ 

“ At midnight Fair Janet stood by the lone- 
some Miles Cross in the wild heather. She cast 
a circle with holy]water, and soon she saw the Fairy 
Court come riding over the hill, with golden bells 
ringing and sweet voices singing, more sweet than 
any on earth : 

" 1 By then gaed the black, black steed, 

And by then gaed the brown; 

But Janet has gripped the milk-white steed 
And pulled the rider down/ 


“ Then there went up a strange, eerie cry, 
1 Tamlane, he’s awa’ ! 9 and all in a moment the 
Fairy Court was gone, and nought to be seen save 
what Janet had in her arms. But oh! children, 
what was it that she held? It turned cold, cold 
like ice on a frozen lake. Janet felt the very heart 


56 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


freezing in her, but she held fast. Then all in a 
moment it changed to a fire, and the flames leaped 
up about her, add she felt her flesh scorching in 
bitter pain; but still she held fast, like the faith- 
ful maid she was. Again it changed, and now in 
her arms was a great serpent, that coiled and 
twisted round her, and hissed in her face with 
open jaws; but Janet gripped the smooth coils 
hard, and looked steadily into the glittering eyes; 
and again a change came, and now she held a 
great white swan, that struck at her with its 
hard beak, and shook its strong wings, and strove 
with all its might to fly away. But love was 
stronger than all, children; though Janet was 
well-nigh dead with pain and fright, still she held 
fast, and lo ye ! now in a moment all was over, and 
there in her arms lay young Tamlane, her own true 
love. She cast her green mantle over him, and 
from that moment he was safe, and no fairy charm 
could touch him more. 

“And so the story ends, children dear — ” 

“ But tell what the Queen said, Mother,” cried 
Elspat. “Oh, tell Alan that!” 

“ 1 Out then and spake the Queen of Fairies, 

Out of a bush of broom: 

1 She that has rescued young Tamlane 
Has gotten a stately groom/ 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


57 


“ 1 Out then and spoke the Queen of Fairies 
Out of a bush o’ rye, 

“ She’s ta’en away the bonniest knight 
In all my companie.” 

“ That is all I mind of it, lassie. Now off to 
your play, the two of you, and if you find Tam- 
lane in the greenwood be sure you bring him to 
me! ” 


CHAPTER YII 


THE FALCONER’S STORY. THE BONNIE MILLDAMS 
OF BINNORIE 

H! Alan — I mean Tamlane! ” cried Fair 



Janet; “ I canna hold ye if ye wriggle so 
hard. Bide a bit, till I get my breath again.” 

“ Ho! ” cried the Fairy Knight. “ I must 
wriggle. I am a serpent, and if you let me go, 
Janet, I shall be lost forever, you know. Hold 
on tight; I shall turn into a fire in a minute.” 

Poor Janet held on as tight as she could, pant- 
ing and crimson; the serpent wriggled and hissed 
frightfully. 

“ I’m frightened! ” cried the maiden at last. 
“ You look fearsome, Tamlane. Is it near done? ” 

“ Almost! ” hissed Tamlane. “ Now I am a 
fire. Do I burn you? ” 

“ Yes! ” faltered Janet. “ You burn me 
fine, but it’s not so bad as the serpent part.” 

“ Now I am a swan! ” the knight announced. 
“ I am afraid I must hurt you a bit, my beak is 
so hard; but this is the last, you know, Janet, and 
then you’ll only have to throw your green mantle 
over me, and — ” 


58 


THE LITTLE MASTER 59 

“ What is to do here? ” said a voice behind them. 
“ What is to do here, Master? ” 

The knight started, and turning, saw Donald, 
the falconer, looking sternly down upon him. 

“ Striking a lassie!” the old man went on; 
“ and your own sister, too. That is a sight I 
never thought to see from my Lord’s son.” 

“ Oh! Donald, he wasn’t! he wasn’t!” cried 
little Elspat eagerly. “ He is Tamlane, and — 
oh, wait; wait a minute — there! ” 

She snatched up her little mantle and threw 
it over her brother, who stood silent and shame- 
faced. “ Now he is safe, and the Fairy Queen 
canna touch him more; do ye see, Donald? ” 

“ Tamlane?/’ said the falconer doubtfully. 

“ Ay, sure; ’tis a fairy tale. Mother told it to 
us, and we made a play of it. He was a fairy 
knight, and I was Fair Janet, and he had to turn 
into a fire and a snake and all the other things, 
else I never could have got him free. ’Tis a bonny 
play, Donald! ” 

“ Maybe so,” said Donald. “ It looked a bit 
rough, as between a knight and a lady; but play 
is play, and I’ll say no more. Now sit ye down, 
lad and lass, and see what Joan cook has sent you 
for a noon-piece.” 

The Little Master cast the green mantle aside 


60 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

and sprang up with a joyful shout, and Elspie 
clapped her hands for joy. “ Tis a doo-pasty! ” 
she cried. “ Oh, Alan, 'tis a doo-pasty! ” 

The “ doo-pasty," which was neither more nor 
less than a pigeon pie, was set on the grass, and 
soon the children were enjoying themselves to 
the full. It was a lovely spot they had chosen 
for their play; a little open glade in the forest, 
where the short grass was flecked with sunshine, 
and shaded by the spreading branches of a great 
ash tree. 

They did not know that they were having a 
picnic, for they had never heard the word. They 
had just had leave to come to the forest with 
Donald, and have their noon-piece there, and that 
over, Donald was to tell them a story. They re- 
minded him of this when nothing was left of the 
pasty save the crumbs, which Elspat scattered 
for the birds. 

“ A tale? " said Donald, stretching himself on 
the grass, and looking up into the great green tent 
above him. “ You bairns are aye wanting tales. 
Hark to the mavis yonder! He tells a sweeter 
tale than ever old Donald could. And yet that 
was a sweet tale I heard last night," he added. 
“ David sang it to his harp; maybe you heard 
it; the song of the Two Sisters of Bkinorie? Nay? 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


61 


Then I will — nay, I cannot sing it; yonder old 
corby could sing better than I; HI tell it in plain 
words as well as I can. 

“ ’Twas of two fair sisters and a gallant knight 
that came a-wooing. It began like this, I mind 
me: 


“ ‘ There were two sisters sat in a bower, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie! 

A knight came there, a noble wooer, 

By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie. 

“ 1 He courted the eldest wi’ glove and ring, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie! ' 

But he loved the youngest above all thing, 

By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie/ 

“ And why he should court the elder one when 
’twas the other he loved passes old Donald’s wit 
to tell ye, bairns; but so it was, and the elder 
hated her sister therefor. 

“ One day she called her and said: ‘ Come away 
down to the river strand with me! ’ The maid 
came, thinking no harm, and as she stood on a 
stone, what does that wicked other one do but 
push her into the deep, swift-flowing water! Oh? 
but the poor young maid cried on her: 

“ ‘ O sister, sister, reach your hand, 

And you shall be heir of half my land! ’ 


62 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


“ And again: 


“ 1 O sister, reach me but your glove, 

And Sweet William shall be your love ! 1 


“ But that wicked orie stood by and saw the poor 
maid borne down the stream, and never spoke 
nor reached her hand. 

“ So down she came to the mill-dam — ” 

“ The wicked one? ” asked Elspat. 

“ Nay, nay, lassie! the other, to be sure, that 
was floating in the water; and the miller’s son 
saw her and called to his father, here was either a 
mermaid or a swan. The miller drew the water 
out and there he found the poor sweet lassie, 
but cold and dead was she, and yet fairer than 
any lily. Round her middle was a girdle of pure 
gold, and strings of pearls in her yellow hair, and 
her white fingers set with jewel rings. 

“ By then came a harper, one like our David, 
that went from hall to hall playing and singing, 
and when he saw that piteous sight he made a great 
moan and sighed and wept. Then he took three 
locks of her yellow hair and strung his harp with 
them, and then he took his way to her father’s 
hall that he knew well. They were all sitting 
round the board — the lord her father and the 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


63 


lady her mother, and that wicked maiden her 
sister — and she all clad in her silks and velvets, 
and thinking now she would win Sweet William’s 
heart for sure; but he, poor lad, looked ever over 
his shoulder at the door, wondering why his true 
love was so long a-coming. But instead of her, 
in came the harper and sat down among them and 
took up his harp to play. But oh, bairns, when he 
did that a strange marvel befell, for the harp spoke 
and sang with its own voice, and never a word 
from him. And — but see now! the words are so 
bonny. I must mind them if I can, for my own 
words are poor beside them. David sang, then: 

“ ‘ And soon the harp sang loud and clear, 

Binnorie, 0 Binnorie! 

“ Farewell, my father and mother dear! ” 

By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie. 

“ 4 And next when the harp began to sing, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie! 

'Twas “ Farewell, sweetheart! ” said the string, 

By the bonny mill-dams o’ Binnorie. 

“ ‘And then as plain as plain could be, 

Binnorie, O Binnorie! 

“ There sits my sister who drowned me! ” 

By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie/ ” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE DAIRYMAID’S STORY. LEEZIE LINDSAY 

I T was so hot that the children had taken refuge 
in the dairy, the coolest place in the whole 
castle. This was a great stone-vaulted room, with 
small windows that let in little light; however 
hot the sun might glare outside, inside there was 
always a dim, cool twilight, with the milk glim- 
mering in its great pans of polished stone, and 
the pleasant, cool smell of buttermilk and cheese 
filling the air. So here, on this burning July 
morning, were the Little Master and Elspat, 
curled up comfortably on a great stone table, 
watching Leezie, the dairymaid, making up her 
butter. Some of it she made into little pats, and 
stamped them with the thistle stamp which was 
Elspat’s great admiration; some of it she made 
into great, smooth rolls; and all of it was yellow 
as gold and sweet as clover. 

“ Is your name Lindsay, Leezie? ” asked little 
Elspat, after watching this delightful process in 
silence for some time. 

“ No, my leddy lassie! ” said Leezie. “ My 
name is Cameron. Why? ” 

64 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


65 


“ You were singing a song about Leezie Lind- 
say/’ said the child. “ Sing it again, will ye no? ” 
“ ’Deed I’ll not! ” said Leezie good-naturedly. 
“I’m hoarse as a corby now, wi’ singing all the 
morning, lassie. I canna bring my butter with- 
out singing, however it is.” 

“ Tell it, then! ” said Elspat. “ Alan would like 
fine to hear it; wouldn’t ye, Alan? ” 

“ I would that! ” said Alan. 

“ You bairns are aye for singing and telling,” 
said Leezie. “ Weel, then, ’tis an old song that, 
and Leezie Lindsay was a young leddy, and a fair 
one, and lived in Edinbro’ town, so she did. And 
there came a lad wooing her, and asked her would 
she go to the Hielands wi’ him? But the leddy 
shook her head and said how could that be, when 
she did not know his name, nor the place where 
he would be going? So he said she would find out 
soon, and his name was Ronald, and he loved her 
weel. So she put on her coats o’ green satin, and 
off she went with the lad. Oh, but it was a weary 
way, bairns; and long before night poor Leddy 
Leezie was so done that she scarce could put foot 
before toe, as the saying is. But at long last they 
came to a poor bit cottage, and an old woman by it; 
and when the old body saw the lad she began to 
cry out and make a great stir; but he said a word 


66 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


in her ear, and then he turned to Leezie. 1 This 
is my mother, bonny Leezie/ he said; ‘ now, 
mother, give us our supper, for we have traveled 
long and far.’ 

“ With that the old body set out curds and whey 
for them, and made a bed of green rushes on the 
floor, and there Leddy Leezie must sleep, and 
think of her grand bed at home. Sair was her 
heart, and sair she mourned her folly; but when 
the lad roused her in the morning, and bade her go 
milk the goats and kye,* she wept salt tears, and 
said with many a sigh: 

“ 1 The leddies of Edinbro’ City, 

They milk neither goats nor kye ! 1 

But he bade her be blithe, and he would show her 
fine things yet; so the poor lassie e’en made the 
best of it, and a poor best it’s like it was, and worse 
for the dumb creatures than for her, I’m saying. 
But when they had had their curds and whey again, 
and maybe a bit of bannock with it, though the 
song says nought of that, the lad said they must on 
again, for there was more to show her before 
another night came on. So poor Leezie must take 
her weary steps again, and like to fall she was 
upon the way, and sighing and moaning; little 

* Kye— cows, 


THE LITTLE MASTER 67 

courage she had, if the song tells right. I never 
thought mickle of city lasses myself. 

“ Weel, and to tell all, they came at last to a 
fair great castle, the like of it was not in Scotland 
for bigness; and when they came to the great door, 
what would they see but it opening, and an old 
lady coming to meet them, was dressed like a 
Queen, and the keys of all the castle in her hand. 
‘ You’re welcome home, Lord Ronald, my son! ’ 
she said; ‘ and your bonny bride is welcome, too. 
Here are the keys, bonny Leezie,’ she said, ‘ take 
them, for all is at your command.’ 

“ Ye see, bairns, all the time it was Lord Ronald 
McDonald, a chieftain o’ high degree; and he 
fooling the lassie that was his own true love, and 
I never liked him for that; but, however it was, 
now she was a great leddy, and she needna eat 
curds and whey unless she liked them. I know who 
likes them weel enough, and ye shall have some 
when my butter is done; but one thing I’ll tell 
ye, bairns: if Jamie, the cook-lad, played me a 
trick like that, it’s no wife he’d get, but the hard 
side o’ my butter-paddle over his head.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE TRUE STORY BEGINS 

D ID I say that the dairy was the coolest place 
in the castle? Nay! there was one cooler. 
Under the lowest story, dug deep in the living rock 
of the foundations, were chambers cool enough 
in the hottest day of midsummer, for no ray of 
sunlight ever entered them. These were dun- 
geons, such as were to be found in all the old 
castles of those days. Little Elspat had never been 
in them; she never passed that side of the wall 
without a shudder; they were empty, but they 
had not always been so. Alan could remember, 
when he was very little, hearing groans and cries 
issuing from the narrow slits which served for 
windows in those gloomy vaults. He had asked 
what the sounds meant, and his mother had wept, 
and his father sternly bade him hold his peace and 
go to his play. Once, too, — but this was long 
after, when he was quite a big boy, — a huntsman 
had been put in one of the dungeons for a day or 
two, as a punishment for forgetting the hawks’ 
messes. He was a young fellow whom Alan knew 
well. It was dreadful to think of his being shut 
68 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


69 


up in that gloomy place while all the rest were 
shouting and playing in the sunlight. When 
Duncan went down to take him his poor supper, 
Alan stole down the stone stair behind him, and 
peeped into the prison. The air was cold, damp 
and mouldy; it struck a chill to his heart, and 
he cried out pitifully, and begged Duncan to let 
Sandy out, and he would feed the hawks himself for 
a week; but Duncan was angry, and threatened 
to tell the Baron if he stayed a moment longer; 
that sent him flying back up the stairs, with only 
a word cried to poor Sandy, to take heart and the 
days would soon pass. So they did, and Sandy 
never forgot the kindness, and would have given 
his life for the Little Master. 

One day — in August it was, when the hay 
harvest was being gathered, and all hands in the 
castle were busy enough with peaceful tasks, — a 
horseman came spurring up the avenue in hot 
haste. His buff coat was spattered with mud; 
his horse was covered with sweat and foam; it 
was plain that he had ridden fast and far. 

Alan was just coming out of the door, and the 
stranger hailed him, in a voice hoarse and broken 
with fatigue. 

“ Ha! lad, these to your Lord, in haste! ” 

As he spoke, he threw himself from his horse, 


70 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

and held out a letter, sealed with a great red 
seal. 

“ In haste! ” he repeated. “ And say where my 
horse may be cared for, for I must mount and 
ride again so soon as may be.” 

Others had heard the galloping hoofs, and now 
Tam the horseboy came running to take the weary 
horse, and Duncan the steward greeted the horse- 
man, and bade him come in and take rest and 
refreshment. Meantime Alan ran to the inner 
courtyard, where he knew his father was overseeing 
the training of the young hawks. Holding out 
the packet, he told briefly of the coming of the 
messenger, and the need of haste. 

The Baron took the letter and turned it over, 
frowning at it. 

“ What is here? ” he asked. “ Know’st thou 
the man? ” 

“ Nay, my Lord; he is a stranger; but he 
saith 1 haste, haste; ’ and he hath ridden fast and 
far, as his horse and himself both show.” 

“ Here is a to-do! ” muttered the great Lord, 
still frowning at the packet. He broke the seal, 
and stared at the contents, frowning still more 
heavily. 

“ Priest’s gear! ” he muttered to himself. Then 
aloud: “ Bid Father Neil come hither! ” 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


71 


“ So please you, my Lord, Father Neil is away; 
he went to the Dowie Glen this morning, to comfort 
a dying man.” 

The Baron swore at the priest and at the 
dying man. “ Here is a to-do ! ” ’ he repeated: 
“ ever in the way when you want them not, out of 
the way when need is of them. Is there anyone 
else can make out these scratches, think you? ” 

Alan blushed fiery red, and hung his head. “ I 
— I — ” he stammered; “ if it please you, father, 
it may be that I could read them, or some of them 
at least.” 

“Thou!” said the Baron. “What hast thou 
to do with such gear? ” 

“ I — I pray you forgive me, father! ’Twas a 
scroll that Father Neil had cast aside. He said 
I might have it; and — on rainy days I have 
studied it whiles, and — I thought maybe, an 
you were fain to know — ” 

“ Pshaw ! ” growled the Baron. “ Would he make 
a priest of thee, like Gavin Douglas? Were it any 
other day but this, I would thrash thee soundly, 
and crop the ears of him who taught thee against 
my will ; but as this gear stands — have thy way, 
lad! here! see an thou canst make out what is 
toward.” 

With trembling hands the boy took the scroll, 


72 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


and slowly, and with many a slip and stumble 
read aloud: 

“ To the good Lord of Morven, these in 
haste. 

“ I ride into England to take a pray, with me 
Graeme and Lindsay, Gordon and menny more. 
Wherefor mount and ride, thou and thine, with 
speed, with speed. The meeting place is Green 
Leyton, down over Ottercap Hill. 

“ So greets thee in felos hyppe 
“ James of Douglas.” 

Looking up, Alan saw his father still frowning 
heavily, and pulling his great beard, as he did when 
he was angry. 

“ Please you, Lord father,” said the boy, “ be 
not angry with Father Neil, for indeed and truly, 
my reading is no fault of his, but mine own. I 
saw him read, and longed to know what was in the 
scroll; and so I watched and listened, unbeknown 
to him, and — ” 

The Baron started and turned to him. 

“ Prut! ” he said. “ I was not thinking of 
thy pribbles and prabbles, boy. Time enough 
for thee to forget priest’s knowledge, when thou 
ridest the Border with me; for this once, it was 
well enough that someone could read the Douglas 


THE LITTLE MASTER 73 

his summons. Behooves us mount and ride, and 
no more about scrawling and snivelling.” 

He strode out of the courtyard, calling to his 
people. In another moment all was bustle and 
confusion. Men ran hither and thither, calling 
and shouting. Armor was taken down from the 
walls and hastily buckled on, without stay for the 
customary polishing which was the pride of the old 
men-at-arms. Horses were fed and groomed (they 
must be in good condition, however it fared with 
their riders), wallets were stuffed with provisions 
and hung at saddlebows. All the time the Baron 
strode hither and thither, giving orders, helping 
on this work with a word of cheer, and that with 
a cuff or a curse. In a wonderfully short space 
of time the troop was equipped and mounted, and 
rode away down the avenue, shouting and singing. 

Poor Alan! When the Baron spoke of his 
riding the Border with him, the boy thought for 
a moment that he was to go on this foray; but 
after that brief word his father took no note of 
him. The Lady came downstairs, pale and anx- 
ious, little Elspat beside her. Her the Baron 
kissed and embraced, bidding her be of good 
cheer, all would be well. He tossed the little 
girl up in his arms, and laughed to see her golden 
curls fly up around her rosy face; but for Alan he 


74 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


had neither word nor look, and the boy’s heart 
beat fast with disappointment and mortification. 
But at the last, when Lord Morven had swung 
himself into the saddle, Brown Bess already 
pawing and prancing with eagerness to be off, 
he turned for a moment and looked at the 
boy. 

“ Master of Morven,” he said, “ look you to the 
castle and the women! I leave them in your 
hands.” 

With that he laughed and rode away; and 
Alan knew not whether his heart were more cast 
down or lifted up. 

Three days passed, and never a sign of the 
Baron or his men. The lady wept and trembled 
over her embroidery frame, for she hated the Bor- 
der forays for the wild and cruel things they were. 
Alan and Elspat tried to cheer and comfort her, 
bringing her flowers and berries from the fields, 
and trying to turn her thoughts by begging for 
song or ballad, such as they loved best to hear 
in her sweet voice; but she could not sing, the 
Lady said. 

“ Then I will sing to you! ” cried little Elspat. 
And she sang the song of Glenlogie and his true 
love, how they were parted, and how the maiden 
drooped and fainted till her own good knight 





WITH THAT HE LAUGHED AND RODE AWAY 


























» 




» 




































► 
















































THE LITTLE MASTER 


75 


came to cheer her up. Just as she was singing the 
last words: 

“ Oh binna feared, mither, I’ll maybe no dee! ” 

Alan cried, “ Look! who is it coming down the 
road? ” 

Three horsemen were coming, riding slowly 
down the broad avenue. Two of them were soon 
recognized as Black Rob and Walter of Welthorpe, 
two of the Baron’s men-at-arms who had ridden 
away with him three days before; but who was 
the third ? 

Alan looked eagerly, but there was no familiar 
look about the bent head and bowed shoulders; 
soon he saw that the stranger’s arms were tied 
behind his back, and his feet securely fastened 
under the horse. A prisoner! The boy looked 
anxiously at his mother, hoping she had not seen; 
but the gentle Lady was wringing her hands in 
distress. “ Alas! alas! ” she cried. “ There has 
been a battle, and my Lord has sent home a 
prisoner. Oh v these weary, weary wars! why can 
we not live in peace with our neighbors? Go you 
down, Alan, and see what word comes from my 
Lord! ” 

Alan ran hastily down; but when he reached the 
hall door the horsemen were no longer in sight. 


76 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


They must have turned aside into the bypath that 
led round to the south tower, under which the 
dungeons lay. Thither the boy hastened, down 
a winding. path that led through the garden; but 
before he reached the south tower he saw one of 
the men-at-arms advancing toward him on foot. 

“ How now, Walter? ” he cried. “ What of 
my Lord? What has chanced? And who was yon 
on the gray mare? ” 

Walter of Welthorpe, a rough, grizzled man, 
doffed his cap respectfully to the Little Master. 

“ Good tidings, Master! ” he said. “ My Lord 
is well, and greets you and the Lady well. We have 
had good sport these days, young Sir; noble sport, 
truly; I would thou hadst been with us; but 
time enough for that.” 

“ Oh! tell me, Walter, tell me! ” cried Alan. 
“ I will take you to my mother, but tell me as we 
go along, how fared it all? ” 

“ Why, thus! ” said Walter, well enough pleased 
to tell his tale. “ The day we left, we came in 
over Ottercap Hill, and so down by Roddeley 
Crag. There met we with the Douglas, and with 
him the Lindsays and Graemes, and all the Gor- 
dons. When we came to Green Leyton the stags 
were leaping like hares in the bracken, and there 
we lighted down and went a-hunting. Twenty 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


77 


fat harts, as I am living man, we slew that day. 
Of these we of our party took three, and Giles and 
Chubby Dick are bringing of them back. But some 
part we roasted there, even under the brow of 
Ottercap, and there we feasted and were merry the 
better part of the night. So on the morn the 
Douglas felt the blood quick and lively in him, 
and he would go beard the Percy in his hall, 
and tempt him forth to battle. Some of the 
Graemes said him nay, they must be winning 
their hay while the season was good; base churls 
they were! but other of them would go with us, 
and every Gordon and Lindsay of them all. So 
on we rode, and on, and harried Bamborowe 3 as 
we went, and set the Otter Dale afire and left it 
burning. So when we came to Newcastle towers, 
the Douglas rode out before us all and called 
loud on the Percy by his name. 1 Harry Percy/ 
quoth he, ‘ an thou bidest within, come to the 
field and fight ! ’ And told him how we had burned 
and harried, and thought no more of him now 
than of Dick’s red cow. A merry flouting was 
that; what ever is to come of it. Then came out 
the Percy on the walls, and a wrathful man was he. 
And ‘ for this/ he says, 7 that thou hast done, 
Douglas, the one of us shall die before he lays 
by his armor.’ So that, see ye, lad, was what the 


78 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


Douglas asked, nought else; so ‘ Where shall I 
wait for thee? ’ he asks; ‘ whatever place thou 
name, Percy/ he said, ‘ there shalt thou find me 
and mine/ 

“And Harry Percy, ‘ Go up to Otterbourne, and 
wait there three days, till my men are ready, and we 
will meet you there/ 

“Then both lords swore a great oath, so it should 
be; and we turned, and rode toward Otterbourne; 
but as we rode, even a league beyond Newcastle, 
we met a young fellow hawking, and he wore the 
Percy colors. A saucy spark he was, and would 
not answer, save that he was no Percy. His dress 
belying him, and no account to give of himself, 
my Lord would have made tree-fruit of him then 
and there, for there should be no spying and prying 
on our riding: but he minded him of certain 
things left behind, and so bade Rob and me ride 
for them, and take the lad and clap him in hold. 
So in hold he lies, Little Master, and there he 
may bide for me: but stay me not now, for I 
must mount and ride, ride, lest I miss the merry- 
making at Otterbourne yonder.” 


CHAPTER X 


OTTERBOURNE 


HERE was little mirth in Morven Castle 



that day and the next. Do what they would, 
all hearts were in the field with their Lord; all 
eyes were peering from the windows, watching for 
the first glint of steel or flutter of pennon round 
the curve of the road. 

The second day was near its close. Alan was 
curled up in his favorite place on the broad 
window-seat of the great hall, Elspat beside him. 
The little girl had been very silent since her 
father went away. Her round cheeks were pale, 
and her blue eyes had a startled look as if she 
were listening and fearing w*hat might befall. 
It was she who caught the first glimpse of some- 
thing moving among the trees that arched over 
the roadway. 

“ Alan! ” she cried, “ Alan! they are coming! 
oh, look! look! ” 

The Little Master sprang to his feet, and looked 
eagerly where she pointed. Round the curve came 
a horseman, riding slow and wearily: then an- 


79 


80 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

other, and another: and then no more. Of the 
twenty who had ridden out so gallantly from 
Morven, three returned, and of these three — 

“ Alan! ” cried Elspat, “ our father is not with 
them! First rides Dick Longbow, and then 
David — oh, good David! he will tell us all — 
and the third is Walter again: but where is our 
Lord father? ” 

“ Feasting with the Douglas, I’ll warrant! ” 
said Alan boldly, but his heart sank in spite of 
himself at the look of the little band. 

They were now in full sight, riding heavily, 
with downcast looks. The Morven pennon, 
torn and stained, drooped from a broken shaft: 
the very horses seemed ,to tread mournfully, 
like the bearers of ill news. 

Down ran the children to the hall door; down 
camle the Lady, her trembling maids behind her, 
old Oona hobbling last on her stick: out came 
Duncan the steward, and Donald the falconer, 
and every soul alive in Morven Castle, and 
gathered round the silent group, the three down- 
looking men on the jaded horses. 

“ Speak, David Johnstone! ” cried the Lady. 
“ What tidings of my Lord? He is well? he is — 
tell me quickly, David! let me not wait, for good 
tidings or ill! ” 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


81 


David Johnstone dismounted, and knelt to 
kiss the Lady’s hand. “ My Lord lives! ” he said 
quickly. “ Many a Scottish knight lies dead 
beside Otterbourne this day, but my Lord of 
Morven lives.” 

“ Now Heaven be praised! ” cried the gentle 
Lady. “ Alan! Elspat! oh, my bairns, all is well 
with your father; thank Heaven with me! ” 

“ Nay! and alas! I said not so!” said the 
harper mournfully. “ Living he is; for so much 
we may give true thanks; thankful may we be, 
too, that the victory lay with Scotland on the 
Day of Otterbourne: ” a cry of joy broke from the 
listeners, but the harper checked them with a 
gesture. “Rejoice while you may!” he said: 
“ but to speak all the truth is sad work for me. 
The Douglas is slain, and my Lord lies in prison 
in Newcastle 4 Tower.’ ’ 

Again a cry went up; but this time it was one 
of rage and sorrow. The men laid hands on their 
swords; the women trembled and clung about 
their Lady. She, gentle and timid in general, now 
stood up straight and white as a royal lily. 

“ David Johnstone,” she said, “ I see well that 
you have a heavy tale to tell, but you have ridden 
far and are weary men. Come into the hall and 
rest you, and while you rest, we will hear how 


82 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

things fell out, and what this is that hath chanced 
to my Lord.” 

Calm and high she spoke, and those about her 
grew calm from her courage. Little Elspat 
stopped crying, and kissed her mother’s hand as 
she clung to it, and Alan’s head was held proudly 
as he handed his Lady mother into the castle hall. 

Here, after Duncan had brought food and drink, 
David the Harper told his tale. t i 

“ ’Twas on Wednesday, three days ago, that 
the Douglas pitched his camp at Otterbourne. 
It was late in the evening and we were weary men, 
so each lay down and slept beside his sword on 
the heather. 

“ Before dawn of the next day, while all our host 
lay in deep slumber, a lad came running to the 
Douglas in his tent. 1 Awake, Douglas! ’ he 
cried, ‘ awake, for thine enemies are upon thee.’ 

“ Lord James raised himself on his elbow as he 
lay. ‘ Now,’ he said, ‘ if this be false, thou little 
lad, and thou hast broke my rest for nought, thou 
shalt hang on the highest tree in Otterbourne; 
but if it be true, shalt choose thy own reward. 
And true it well may be,’ he said, ‘ for I have 
dreamed a dreary dream this night. I saw a 
dead man win a fight, and I think that man was I! ’ 
But still the lad cried ( Awake, Douglas! the 


THE LITTLE MASTER 83 

Percy is at hand, and seven standards with 

him . 9 

“Then up sprang every man and grasped the 
sword that was by him, and made ready to fight, 
and before the sleep was well out of our eyes, 
here was the white lion banner of the Percy 
waving against the gray sky, and the English 
marching on Otterbourne , 5 crying on St. George 
of England. 

“ We on our part cried on good St. Andrew , 6 
and so to it we fell, sharp and swift. Arrows flew 
from our bows, piercing buff coat and baldrick, 
sword and axe were sharp and bright that tide, 
and bright the moon glanced on them, and on 
shining helm and target. Man to man we fought, 
Southron to Scot, and none asked quarter nor gave. 
Even so came the Douglas and the Percy together, 
and fought hand to hand, foot to foot, blade 
against bright blade. Then fire flashed and sparks 
flew from helm and harness; great battle was 
there before the dawn of the day. The Percy 
struck a mighty blow, which clove Lord James’s 
helmet in two and dealt him a sore wound on the 
brow. He staggered back a pace and fell, and his 
men closed round to the rescue, but he would none 
of them save his own sister’s son, Sir Hugh 
Montgomery. Then came Sir Hugh speedily and 


84 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

knelt down by his good Lord and asked his 
will. 

“ ‘ My nephew bold/ said the Douglas, ‘ what 
matters the death of one? The day is ours, full 
well I know, for I saw it in my dream. Now my 
wound is deep, and I fain would sleep. Lay me in 
the bracken bush that grows yonder, and tell 
none of my death, but cry the name of Douglas 
and it shall lead my merry men to victory. But 
bury me here on this lea, beneath the blooming 
brier, and let never mortal know that a kindly 
Scot lies here ! ’ 

“ Ohon! and alas! no word more spoke the Doug- 
las, but yielded up his soul to God. Bitter tears 
then wept the Montgomery, and I with him, for 
I was near at hand. We lifted up our noble lord, 
and laid him in the great bush of bracken that 
hid him from the sight of all; soft couch it was 
for those bold limbs that oft had lain on cold stone. 

“ Then Sir Hugh Montgomery lifted the Douglas 
his banner, and took the great sword from his 
side, and so to battle once more, crying his Lord’s 
name. The moon shone clear, the day drew near, 
the Scottish spears made brave havoc through the 
English ranks. The Gordons steeped their hose 
and shoon in English blood; the Lindsays flew like 
fire about; it was a gallant fray. When the Mont- 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


85 


gomery found the Percy, he struck at him amain, 
and he at him again with great and mighty strokes; 
but Montgomery fought with dead hand on 
living, and soon the Percy was beaten to his 
knee. Sir Hugh cried on him to yield, but he, 

‘ To whom shall I yield, if so it must be? ’ 

“ 1 Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loon/ said 
Sir Hugh; ‘but to the bush of bracken yonder/ 

“ ‘ Not I! ’ cried the Percy: ‘ only to the Doug- 
las will I yield, or Montgomery if he were here/ 

“ Then Sir Hugh did off his helmet, and when the 
Percy knew him, he gave up his sword and owned 
himself captive. So ended that great fight on 
Otterbourne. The sun rose and shone on the 
dead of both sides; in thousands they lay, their 
faces upturned to the day, their wounds in front 
as became good men and true. 

“ But alas! for Morven that day! our Lord was in 
such hot haste, pursuing certain of the foe as they 
fled, that he outrode our armies and Otterbourne 
to boot, his sole self chasing a whole troop, his 
heart the heart of ten: so fell they on another 
band of English, riding to rescue their own master 
if they might : but learning that all was over, and 
they too late for fight, they closed around our 
good Lord, and he, fighting like a lion, was still 
overcome of numbers, and borne away to New- 


86 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

castle Tower, as I said in the beginning. So 
here endeth my tale, Lady and Master and good 
folks all, for the sorrow of Douglas and Morven, 
but the glory of Scotland while time shall last.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE CAPTIVE 



H! Alan! ” cried little Elspat. “ Alan, how 


terrible! ’tis as if the ballads were coming 
true. Did you hear how David told it, almost 
like a song? Ohon! and alas! what shall we do? ” 
The children had crept away to their own play- 
room, a small square room at the top of one of 
the high towers of the castle. It was little like the 
playrooms of to-day. There were two or three 
deerskins on the stone floor; a low table and a 
couple of creepies; Alan’s bow and quiver hang- 
ing on the wall, some strings of birds’ eggs neatly 
blown, a set of knucklebones made from the joints 
of a fish’s back bone; this was really all, save for 
Elspat’s little harp, the most precious thing she 
had in the world. David had brought it to her, 
and told her how it had belonged to a little Prin- 
cess of Scotland who died; after her death her 
mother could not bear the sight of the harp; she 
gave it to the royal harper, and he to David, and 
he in turn to Elspat; so now she cherished Prin- 
cess Fiona’s harp, and loved it next to her mother 
and Alan. The Lady had made a silken cover for 


87 


88 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


it, and it hung beside Alan’s bow, the wonderful 
bow that the head forester, Red Jock Ogilvie, 
shaped for the boy with his own hands. 

The children were sitting sad and sorrowful on 
their stools; Elspat weeping softly and drying her 
tears with her little kerchief, Alan looking moodily 
on the ground. 

“ The Douglas dead! ” he said, “ A black day 
for the Marches of Scotland! ” 

“ And our Lord father in prison! ” cried Els- 
pat; “oh, woful hour! to be shut up in a dark- 
some den like — ” she caught her breath suddenly. 
“ Alan! ” she cried. “ Do you mind — oh, Alan! 
do you mind the stranger they brought home the 
other day? ” 

“ Ay! I mind him! ” said Alan briefly. 

“ Did they send him home, Alan, think you, 
or — ” the little girl’s voice faltered. 

“ Nay! they put him in the dungeon. I did 
not tell thee, Elsie; such things are not for little 
maids to know; but now that our own Lord lies in 
dungeon hold, we may be glad enough that our 
own castle rock holds one of the Percy band, black 
be the fall of them! ” 

The boy spoke fiercely, his dark eyes flashed; 
but little Elspat cried “No! no! brother Alan! 
not so does mother teach us. She says God hears 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


89 


the sighing of the prisoners; and if one, then 
another. If He hears our father, will He not 
hearken to the other poor man? ” 

“ He is a Percy! ” said Alan doggedly. “ He 
is our enemy, and the enemy of our house.” 

“ But — but — ” cried the little girl, “ he is 
there under ground, Alan! and no light coming in 
to him, and horrid things under his feet, and — 
oh, I canna bear to think of him.” 

“ Dinna think of him, then! ” said Alan. 

“ But I must: I canna keep it from me. Oh, 
Alan, lad, could we no let him out, you and me? ” 
“ Elspat,” said Alan sternly, “ no more word 
of this! Our father left the castle in my charge; 
did ye no hear him? A pretty thing it would be 
for the Master of Morven to set free his Lord’s 
prisoner, and he away and in hold himself. No 
more words, you silly lassie! ” 

“ Only one word more will I say! ” said little 
Elspat, “ and that the word I said before, that 
the Lord God on high hears the sighing of the 
prisoners.” 

But it was a strange thing that chanced that 
night. The evenings were long and light, for it 
was summer. The Lady, worn out with weeping, 
had gone early to her bower, and old Oona had 
taken Elspat off early too, to the little airy room 


90 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


where their two pallets were spread. Alan had 
sought out the harper, and the two friends were 
pacing slowly along the rough path that ran be- 
neath the castle walls, round the whole circuit of 
the building. 

The harper was telling over again the story 
of Otterbourne, the boy listening with painful 
eagerness. 

“ Ay! ” said David Johnstone, “ Long the coun- 
tryside will ring with the tale of this day: long, 
long will it ring. The bracken bush; ay! see 
you now, lad, that is a tale for a song: it is a song 
David will be making of it one day. Ay! ay! 
so the songs come to be. The bracken bush! ” 

He began to hum under his breath; trying this 
note and that, and fitting words to them the 
while. Presently he unslung the harp that hung 
at his back, and struck two or three chords softly: 
then suddenly threw back his head and sang in his 
deep clear voice. 

“ But I have seen a dreary dream, 

Beyond the isle o' Sky; 

I saw a dead man win a fight, 

And I think that man was I.” 

“ Oh, David! ” cried Alan, “ That is bonny! 
Oh, can ye not go on and tell ! ” 

“ Whisht now! whisht! ” said the harper, “dinna 



“ TWO LITTLE HANDS CLASPING THE BARS OF A GRATED WIN- 


































■ 
































































































































THE LITTLE MASTER 


91 


speak to a man when he’s making a song. It 
must come of itself, man; it must come of itself .’ ’ 

Again he thrummed his harp, humming to 
himself; then again broke out in song. 

“ My wound is deep, I fain would sleep, 

Nae mair I’ll fighting see; 

Go lay me in the bracken bush 
That grows on yonder lea. 

“ But tell no one of my brave men 
That I lie bleeding wan, 

But let the name of Douglas still 
Be shouted in the van.” 

All this while they were pacing slowly along the 
walk; now they turned a sharp angle, and came 
upon the dungeon keep, standing stark and black 
in the evening light. Alan stopped short with 
a low cry. 

“ What is yon? ” he said in a trembling voice, 
“ David, what is yon? ” 

At the foot of the grim black tower a figure was 
crouching on the ground, a little white figure with 
golden hair. Two little hands clasping the bars 
of a grated window; a rosy face pressed against 
the grating — what was yon, indeed? 

“ Hist! ” said the harper, in a low voice, “ ’Tis 
the little Lady! ” 


92 


OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


“ Elspat! ” cried Alan; and spite of David’s 
caution, his voice rang out sharp in surprise and 
displeasure. At sound of it the child started; then 
springing to her feet, came running toward them 
with outstretched hands. “ Oh, brother! oh, 
David! ” she cried, “ dinna flyte * me! He is no 
Percy, he says. He swears he is no Percy! oh, 
listen to me, AJan!” for she saw in terror her 
brother’s brow darken with one of the sudden 
rages that sometimes came over him. The boy’s 
eyes flashed fire. “ Elspat! ” he cried, “ you 
have not dared — you have never dared to speak 
to a prisoner; you, the daughter of Morven! 
shame upon you! shame! ” 

Anger choked his utterance; but David the 
harper laid a quiet hand over his mouth. 

“ If there is shame,” he said gravely, “ it is 
when the Master of Morven speaks roughly to his 
Lady sister. Keep Tom Tongue at home, boy, 
till he can speak fair and seemly; and come you 
here, my lily flower, and tell old David what has 
chanced, and how it is that this hour finds you 
kneeling by dungeon grates instead of at your 
sweet prayers within.” 

Leading the now sobbing child a little way apart, 
he sat down on a mossy rock, and taking her on his 
* Flyte; scold. 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


93 


knee, signed to Alan to sit down beside him. The 
boy obeyed, his breast still heaving with anger; 
he dared not disobey the harper, who spoke with 
authority; and besides, spite of his rage, he wanted 
desperately to know what Elspat had heard. 

Soothed by David’s kind words and voice, the 
little girl told her story: how she could not rest 
in her bed for thought of the poor captive in the 
dungeon : how she thought it could be no harm to 
take him a parcel of oat cakes and a cup of milk; 
thought it could be no harm to do what the good 
Lord Jesus said; and so — and so — he was 
hungry, woful hungry; “ and oh, David, ’tis 
sooth! ” cried the child, “ He is no Percy, but 
a Highland lad of the Graemes, taken by the 
Percys, and his father slain before his eyes, and 
his home burned. They forced him to wear their 
colors and serve them; he was biding his time till 
he should be old enough and strong enough to take 
his revenge and escape. Oh, David, he knows 
every crook and turn of Newcastle; if we let him 
free he would help our Lord father to escape; 
he says, — oh, Alan, listen to him, and dinna flyte 
me! ” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE WHITE MAID OF NEWCASTLE 

TN the cold gray of the morning three people 
left Morven Castle and took the forest path 
that wound southward over moor and heath 
toward Newcastle. They were well mounted; 
David the harper on Strawberry, a powerful roan, 
old and wise. The Little Master rode his own 
Sultan, a beautiful little Arabian chestnut, with 
a white star on his forehead, the pride of Alan’s 
heart; between them rode a youth of eighteen or 
thereabouts, clad in the Percy colors; a tall, 
slender lad, with fiery black eyes and a shock of 
tawny hair. He glanced about him with fierce 
restless eyes; looking at him, Alan could think of 
nothing but a fettered hawk, chafing at the leash 
that held him. 

Three went out, and three saw them go. From 
the postern gate Evan Cameron the warder 
watched them, and shook his grizzled head. 
“ Forty years I have kept watch and ward in 
Morven,” he said, “ and never till now saw I a 
prisoner loosed without ransom. I doubt I must 
94 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


95 


answer for it with my head; yet David swears he 
will take all the blame; and how could I deny the 
Master of Morven when he laid his commands upon 
me, and spoke so like his father it fchook the heart 
in me? I wish good may come of it, but I fear, 
I fear! ” 

But from the bower window, high in the north 
tower, the Lady and her little daughter, clasped 
in each other's arms, watched with beating 
hearts. 

“ My boy! ” cried the gentle Lady. “ Oh, my 
son! what if he be riding to his own death? Elsie, 
Elsie, why did we let him go? ” 

Little Elspat’s eyes shone through the tears 
like blue stars. 

“ He will win through! ” she cried. “ He will 
win clear and bring my Lord father back safe and 
well. I know it, mother dear; I am as sure as if 
I saw them riding back even now. David is so 
wise, and so skilled in every device; and Nicol 
Graeme is true man, trust me but he is. He has 
a little sister — oh, mother, he knows not where 
she is since the black day when the Percys harried 
his glen. Oh, do you think when my father is 
home safe and well, he will help Nicol to find his 
little sister? ” 

“ If he comes home safe and well! ” sighed the 


96 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

Lady, “ surely he will, my little Elspat; if he 
comes! ” 

“ Nay! ” cried Elspat, u I said when! ” 

Riding over the wild moors, southward toward 
Newcastle, the Little Master, his anger clean for- 
got, chatted joyously with his prisoner. Always 
eager for new and strange things, he listened to 
tales of the Highlands, of glen and mountain 
and lake. The Highland lad told of his parents’ 
death, his own capture, his patient biding the 
hour of revenge. 

“ And I think it dawns e’en now! ” he said. 
“ I think it dawns e’en now. The Percy prisoner, 
and Nicol Graeme free of foot, and bound to set 
him free that may gar the red cock crow from 
Newcastle Tower. A blythe day for my father’s 
son! ” 

“ Nay! nay, lad! we’ll have no red cocks crow- 
ing! ” quoth David Johnstone. “ I am a man of 
peace, and peaceful way must win this day. Now 
as to this dungeon you tell of. It lies under a 
haunted tower, you say; and the spectre that 
walks is that of a maid in white? ” 

“ Ay! the White Maid of Newcastle. She comes 
when danger bodes for the house of Percy, as I 
told you. The man her eye glances on will sicken 


THE LITTLE MASTER 97 

of a fever, yet he may recover; the man her 
finger touches dies within the month.” 

“ And they hold this for sooth in Newcastle 
Tower? ” 

“ What else? It hath been proved, nor once 
only, but many times.” 

The Little Master looked doubtfully at the 
harper; David did not believe in ghosts, he knew, 
though most peopie did in those days. But in 
this case — The harper met his glance, and shook 
his head with a smile. 

“ Prove is a large word,” he said; “ but true 
or false, it suits our plan well this day. Listen, 
lads! ” 

It was night in Newcastle Tower. A sorrowful 
place it was, and had been ever since the day of 
Otterbourne. Their Lord, their great and glorious 
Harry Percy, was captive in Castle Dangerous. 
True, his foe and rival, James of Douglas, lay in 
a darker and narrower prison, his grave beside the 
bracken bush upon the lily lea; true also that a 
noble prisoner lay in their own dungeon, deep 
under the castle rock; but even these things could 
not lighten their hearts; and every brow was 
sad, from the Countess weeping in her silken 
bower to the sentinel on guard outside the door 


98 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

of the gloomy cell where the Baron of Morven 
lay. 

It w&s cold in the prison gallery, cut out of the 
living rock. The lonely sentinel shivered in his 
buff jerkin, and beat his arms upon his breast 
as he walked slowly up and down. It was a 
dreary post. There was no light save that of 
his lantern set on the ground by the door of the 
cell he guarded, and that was dim and faint. On 
either hand the long narrow gallery melted into 
blackness. A dreary post indeed! Now and then 
the man paused in his walk, and peered uncer- 
tainly into the darkness, first one way, then the 
other. 

“ Black as a peat hag! ” he muttered. “ And 
this poor flicker only shows the darkness. Ugh! 
and cold as the grave. I would I were well out 
of this. Marry, and I should be, had they but 
given this Scot the steel in his vitals instead of on 
his wrists. They are all for ransom, ransom. Plain 
Jock gets a short shrift and a grave where he 
falls, if there be any to dig it for him; but when 
there is gold to be got, some poor fellow must 
freeze the marrow in his bones watching lest 
prisoner and ransom win free. Ugh! Baron or 
boor, I would ransom him with my pike’s end, 
had I — 


The little master 


99 


“ Hark! what is that? ” A footstep sounded on 
the stone floor. The man caught up his pike. 
“ Stand! ” he cried. The sound ceased. 

“ Well! ” said a voice. “ I am standing. What 
next? ” 

“ Who comes? ” cried the soldier. 

“ A friend! ” 

“ The password, friend, or back the way you 
come / 7 

“ Cockaleekie!” was the reply, in a half-laugh- 
ing tone. 

“ No foolery! ” said the soldier fiercely. “ Who 
art thou, to come here at this time of night with 
thy quips and japes? ” 

“ Who am I? why, a fool in good sooth, I be- 
lieve. I said ‘ Cockaleekie ’ because it was what 
brought me hither. Sniff with thy nose, and wilt 
smell it. Jess the kitchen maid met me e’en now 
as I was going to my bed, whth a sad tale of a poor 
lad that was a friend of hers, and must mount 
guard this night in the dungeon gallery. He would 
be both cold and hungry, she said, and would I 
be a charitable soul and take him a mess of 
cockaleekie that she had kept hot for him between 
two covers? So being charitable, or a fool, or 
both being the same thing, I even took the dish 
and came, with no thought but to please the lass, 


100 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


who is a comely lass enough. But since I have no 
other password save my cockaleekie, I must e’en 
go back the way I came, as thou sayest.” 

The speaker, who was invisible in the blank 
darkness, began to move away. “ Stay! ” cried 
the sentry; “ stay! art a good fellow, 111 warrant, 
and Jess is a thoughtful lass. After all, cocka- 
leekie is a fair word for a hungry man, and I 
know not — who art thou? Advance, and let 
me have a look at thee! ” 

Nicol Graeme, for it was he, came forward into 
the dim circle of light cast by the lantern. He 
was holding a covered dish carefully in both hands. 
A savory steam came from it; the sentry sniffed 
eagerly. “It is thou, Nicol!” he cried; “why 
didst not say so? Beshrew thee for a Jack-o’- 
lantern as thou art! might’st have lost me my 
supper, and I in such need of it as never man was 
before. Give it here! ” 

He took the dish eagerly, and squatting down 
with it between his knees, began to eat as if he 
were famished indeed. Nicol Graeme watched 
him in silence. 

Cockaleekie is a Scottish dish, chicken and 
bacon, peas and carrots and onions all cooked 
together into a savory stew: the hungry soldier 
smacked his lips as he ate. 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


101 


“ ’Tis a brave dish! ” he said with his mouth 
full. “ And she was a brave lass that sent it.” 

“ Ay! and what about me that brought it? ” 
asked Nicol. “ Methinks I was a brave lad, and 
a bold one, to come this way after what Jess was 
telling me.” 

“ And what was that? ” The sentry looked up 
in some alarm. 

“ Nought new to you most like, but I had not 
heard; that the White Maid walks in Newcastle 
these nights.” 

“ Who said it? Who hath seen her? Where — ” 
The soldier scrambled to his feet, and his glance 
darted right and left down the black gloom of 
the gallery. “ Who hath seen her?^” he cried 
again. “ Where does she walk? ” 

“ I dinna mind,” said Graeme carelessly. “ Old 
Simon; was it old Simon she looked on? Ay, 
it was, and he lies stricken with fever since he 
saw her last night.” 

“ Where? ” asked the soldier again. “ Where 
did he see her? ” 

“ In the long gallery, or so Jess had it. ’Tis 
in the galleries she ever walks, they say. Who is 
it you gUaVd here, friend Will? A prisoner of 
Otterbou^ne? ” 

“ Ay! a Scottish noble, he of Morven: held for 


102 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

ransom, and for pledge of our own good Lord. 
The worse luck for me! I would I were out of 
this place! ” 

“ Morven! ” repeated the Highland lad. “ I 
met a man of Morven on the road not long syne; 
a minstrel he was, and he played me a tune on 
his harp ; a bonny tune. How went it, now? I 
mind me — ” he whistled a bar or two of a lively 
air, but broke off suddenly. “ What — ” fhe 
said, and his voice faltered — “ what is that, 
Will? ” As he spoke he pointed over the other’s 
shoulder. The soldier turned hastily, and both 
stared down the long passage to the left. The 
blackness of darkness — was it? Or was something 
glimmering pale against the black? Something 
that fluttered, vanished, appeared again; finally 
came slowly and steadily towards them. A white 
figure, tall and slender, wrapped in a veil or man- 
tle; the face hidden; one hand extended, the fore- 
finger pointing — the soldier clutched Graeme’s 
arm for a moment, staring with parted lips and 
eyes starting from their sockets; then with a wild 
scream, “ The White Maid! ” he rushed headlong 
in the opposite direction. There was the sound 
of a scuffle, a groan, a fall. “ Hither, lads! ” 
said a low voice. Nicol Graeme ran forward; 
the white figure followed, casting off its veil as 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


103 


it ran. They found David Johnstone kneeling on 
the prostrate soldier, one hand pressed firmly over 
his mouth. 

“ Quick! ” he said; “ tear a strip from thy man- 
tle, Master, and give it me for a gag; so! now the 
cords; tie me his ankles; now his wrists; so! 
there we have him, and a pretty piece of work as 
one need see. Now for his keys! Quiet, lad, quiet, 
and no harm shall come to thee! ” for the unhappy 
sentinel, stunned at first by his fall, was coming 
to himself, and struggling to free himself of his 
bonds. “ Quiet, I say, and no harm shall come to 
thee; but make a sound, and there shall need no 
White Maid of Newcastle to tell thee that thine 
hour has struck. 

“ Where is the door, Graeme? ” Graeme raised 
the lantern, and showed a low door in the wall, 
heavily barred with iron. “ Master, take thou 
the keys! ” said the harper. “ Thou and no 
other shalt set free thy father.” 

“ And I,” said Nicol Graeme, “ will e’en sit 
me down and finish the cockaleekie; ’twere 
a pity to waste good food, and I fear me friend 
Will here hath lost his appetite.” 


CHAPTER XIII 
all’s well! 

“ T)UT how did ye get in? ” asked the Baron of 
Morven. 

Four were riding along the road where three 
had ridden, but in the opposite direction. Swiftly 
they rode, and joyfully, though ever and anon 
an anxious glance was cast backward to see if they 
were pursued. It was still dark, though the east 
began to show gray where the dawn was to come. 

“ How did ye get in? ” asked the Baron. 

“ ’Twas David planned it all, father! ” cried 
Alan eagerly. “ David and Nicol, ’tis them we 
have to thank this night.” 

“ Tush! ” said the harper. “ Modesty is a 
pretty thing, in youth especially, but truth comes 
first, and we should have been ill off without our 
little Master this night. To say all, my Lord, it 
took the three of us to play the play; nay, four, 
for where should we have been without my harp? ” 

He touched his harp lovingly as he spoke. 

“ ’Twas this opened the gate to me! ” he said. 
“ I stood outside and began to sing, and they soon 
had me in. When they found I was at Otterbourne 
104 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


105 


they came round me like bees round a honey-tree, 
and twice and thrice I must sing the song; and 
while I sang and they listened, craning their 
necks and stretching their eaife, the two lads crept 
in through a postern that Graeme knew of, and 
so into the castle. And here they wellnigh came 
to shipwreck on the very threshold, for as Nicol 
led the way he ran into one of the household who 
was making his own way out to take his pleasure, 
without leave asked or given. See now, my Lord, 
how young witjs work! Before the fellow could 
speak Nicol was on his neck crying to him to save 
him, save him, for death was on his heels. Held 
him there, mark you, crying and moaning, while 
our Little Master undid the bundle and wrapped 
the white veil round him. Then — tell you, 
Nicol; I saw not this part.” 

“ I hung on his neck,” said the Highland lad, 
“ till I caught a flutter of white with the tail of 
my eye. Then I gave a skriegh and jammed 
him against the wall and held him there, the two 
of us 'groaning and shaking, while the White Maid 
of Newcastle gaed by. Lad, but that was a fear- 
some look ye gied us. It garred my blood run 
cold, and I knowing you; but poor Simon! when 
you glowered at him and raxed out your hand I 
thought the soul would leave his body with fear.” 


106 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 


“ But I didna touch him! ” cried Alan eagerly. 
“ I didna touch him, father, to have maybe his 
death at my door. David has known men die of 
fright, he says. I only rolled my eyes at him and 
clawed the air a bit, and gurgled in my throat, 
and then on past him till I came to the hiding 
hole that Nicol told me of. And then you — go 
on, Nicol! ” 

“ Him and me,” said Nicol chuckling, “ poor 
Simon and me, we stood clutching each ither and 
the wall till the boy was well out of sight, and 
then away with us out of the postern head over 
heels, merry-come-tumble, and never drew breath 
till we were in the castle kitchen. There we told 
our tale five times running, and by the fifth 
time the Maid was seven feet tall, with eyes of 
red fire, and where her robe brushed past Simon his 
side was all cold and dead-like, except for prickings 
as of a red-hot needle; and with that he took to 
his bed, and I to make love to Jess the cook maid 
for a mess of cockaleekie. Sooth, I was better 
off than the Master here, who must bide in hiding 
hole till he should hear me whistle the ‘ Morven 
Merrymaking/ ” 

“ Or than I,” said the harper, “ who must fret 
my heart out with wondering how it fared with 
you two, till I had the wit to ask for food, and so 


THE LITTLE MASTER 


107 


made my way to the kitchen. Thy grinning face 
was all the supper I needed, Nicol; I might have 
known thou wouldst be where food was.” 

“ Thou might’st well! ” said the Highland lad 
calmly. “ I was aye hungry, most times since I 
can remember.” 

“ Shalt never be hungry again, lad,” said the 
Baron, “ while there is meat in Morven. Wilt 
take service with me, Nicol Graeme? ” 

“ Ay will I, my good Lord ! ” said Nicol. “ Hand 
and foot I’ll serve thee, and ride the Border side 
with thee when next thou seekest the Percy, 
in open field or in moated tower. 

“ And thou, Master of Morven, what sayest 
thou? Wilt ride the Border with me? ” 

“ Oh, father! ” cried Alan, and again, “ Oh, 
father! ” He could find no words, but his glowing 
cheeks and shining eyes spoke*for him. 

“ Thou art over young to be knighted,” said 
the Baron, “ otherwise hadst won thy spurs this 
night; but thy father’s page thou well mayst be, 
and shalt.” 

Alan tried to stammer his thanks, but the 
Baron laid his mailed jhand on his shoulder a 
moment. “ I know all thou wouldst say, lad! ” 
he said, and there was that in his stern voice that 
Alan had never heard there before. “ I know all 


108 OUR LITTLE FEUDAL COUSIN 

thou wouldst say, but we Morvens have few words. 
Thou and these two have saved my life this night, 
and I do not forget. But look! yonder is the dawn, 
and yonder the first glimpse of bonny Morven: 
fair fall the towers of it! ” 

Alan looked, and there, sure enough, in the 
faint pearly morning light, was the grim castle, 
lifting its turrets above the clustering trees. Ga- 
zing eagerly, the boy saw something white at one 
of the upper windows. 

“ Oh, my Lord! ” he cried; “ oh, father, they 
are at the window; they are watching, mother 
and Elsie, and Oona too. Mother said she should 
be watching from the first streak of dawn. I 
said if all was well I would wave my kerchief as 
I came round the turn. May I ride on, father, 
and give the good news? ” 

“ Ride on, son of mine! ” said the Baron. 
“ Ride on, and mayst thou ever be the bearer 
of good news, Master of Morven! ” 

A touch of the spur, a whispered word; the 
Arab shot forward like an arrow, and with beating 
heart, with happy, shining eyes, his white ker- 
chief waving on high, the Little Master rode on to 
carry the good news. 


THE END 


NOTES 


P. 11, Note 1. Master. In Scotland, the title of 
the eldest son of a viscount or 
baron. 

2. Malcolm Canmore reigned, 1054- 
93, succeeding Macbeth. 

3. Bamborough. A village in 
Northumberland, often occupied 
in Border wars; celebrated for 
its castle founded about 547. 

4. Newcastle. The chief town of 
Northumberland. Its castle, 
built by the Normans in 1080 
and rebuilt by Henry II, was a 
famous stronghold. 

5. The battle of Otterburn, or 
Chevy Chase, was fought August 
19th, 1388. See Percy’s Beliques 
of Ancient English Poetry. 

6. St. Andrew. The patron saint 
of Scotland. 


P. 37, 
P. 77, 

P. 81, 

P. 83, 

P. 83, 


109 


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• ' VACATION 

THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S KNIGHT COMES 

.(Trade Mark) 

RIDING 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHUM, MARY 

WARE (Trade Mark) 

MARY WARE IN TEXAS 
MARY WARE’S PROMISED LAND 

These twelve volumes, boxed as a set, $33.80. 

A — 11 


the page: company's 


SPECIAL HOLIDAY EDITIONS 

Each small quarto , cloth decorative, per volume . $1.50 

New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page 
drawings in color, and many marginal sketches. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL 

(Trade Mark) 

TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY 
BIG BROTHER 

THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES 

Each small 16mo , cloth decorative , with frontispiece 

and decorative text borders, per volume $0.75 

IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: The Legend 

op Camelback Mountain. 

THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy Tale for 
Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their 
Daughters. 

KEEPING TRYST: A Tale of King Arthur’s 
Time. 

THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART 
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: 

A Fairy Play for Old and Young. 

THE JESTER’S SWORD 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’S GOOD TIMES 
BOOK 

Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series . $2.50 

Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold . 5.00 

Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg. 

“ A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may 
record the good times she has on decorated pages, and 
under the directions as it were of Annie Fellows John- 
ston.” — Buffalo Express . 

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BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK — First 
Series 

Quarto, boards, printed in colors . . . .$1.90 

A series of “ Little Colonel ” dolls. Each has several 
changes of costume, so they can be appropriately clad 
for the rehearsal of any scene or incident in the series. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK — Sec- 
ond Series 

Quarto, boards, printed in colors . . . $1.90 

An artistic series of paper dolls, including not only 
lovable Mary Ware, the Little Colonel’s chum, but many 
another of the much loved characters which appear in 
the last three volumes of the famous “ Little Colonel 
Series.” 

THE STORY OF THE RED CROSS: as Told to 
the Little Colonel 

Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated . . . $1.25 

This story originally appeared in “ The Little Colonel’s 
Hero,” but the publishers decided to issue it as a 
separate volume. 

“No one could tell the story of the Red Cross with 
more vividness and enthusiasm than this author, and 
here she is at her best. No book published during the 
Great War is more valuable and timely than this appeal- 
ing story of the beginning of the Red Cross.” — New 
York Tribune. 

“It deserves a place in every school as well as in 
every home where the work of the Red Cross is appre- 
ciated.” — Evening Express, Portland, Me. 

“ Not only VERY interesting, but has large educa- 
tional value.” — Lookout, Cincinnati, Ohio. 

JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.90 

« The book is a very clever handling of the greatest 
event in the history of the world,” — ■ Roohesten N , Y. } 
Herald. 

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THE PAGE COMP ANTS 


THE LITTLE COUSINS OF LONG 
AGO SERIES 

The volumes in this series describe the boys and girls 
of ancient times. 

Each small 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 90c. 

OUR LITTLE ATHENIAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE CARTHAGINIAN COUSIN OF 
LONG AGO 

By Clara V. Winlow. 

OUR LITTLE CELTIC COUSIN OF LONG AGO 

By Evaleen Stein. 

OUR LITTLE FRANKISH COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Evaleen Stein. 

OUR LITTLE MACEDONIAN COUSIN OF 
LONG AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE NORMAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Evaleen Stein. 

OUR LITTLE ROMAN COUSIN OF LONG AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE SAXON COUSIN OF LONG AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE SPARTAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE VIKING COUSIN OF LONG AGO 

By Charles H. L. Johnston. 

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BOORS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 

(trade mark) 

Each volume illustrated with six or more full page plates 
in tint. Cloth, 12mo, with decorative 
cover, per volume, $1.00 

LIST OF TITLES 

By Col. F. A. Postnikov, Isaac Taylor 
Headland, LL. D., Edward C. 

Butler, etc. 


Our Little African Cousin 
Our Little Alaskan Cousin 
Our Little Arabian Cousin 
Our Little Argentine Cousin 
Our Little Armenian Cousin 
Our Little Australian Cousin 
Our Little Austrian Cousin 
Our Little Belgian Cousin 
Our Little Boer Cousin 
Our Little Bohemian Cousin 
Our Little Brazilian Cousin 
Our Little Bulgarian Cousin 
Our Little Canadian Cousin 
of the Maritime Provinces 
Our Little Chinese Cousin 
Our Little Cossack Cousin 
Our Little Cuban Cousin 
Our Little Czecho-Slovak 
Cousin 

Our Little Danish Cousin 
Our Little Dutch Cousin 
Our Little Egyptian Cousin 
Our Little English Cousin 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin 
Our Little Finnish Cousin 
Our Little French Cousin 
Our Little German Cousin 
Our Little Grecian Cousin 
Our Little Hawaiian Cousin 
A — '15 


Our Little Hindu Cousin 
Our Little Hungarian Cousin 
Our Little Indian Cousin 
Our Little Irish Cousin 
Our Little Italian Cousin 
Our Little Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Jewish Cousin 
Our Little Korean Cousin 
Our Little Malayan (Brown) 
Cousin 

Our Little Mexican Cousin 
Our Little Norwegian Cousin 
Our Little Panama Cousin 
Our Little Persian Cousin 
Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Our Little Polish Cousin 
Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Portuguese Cousin 
Our Little Quebec Cousin 
Our Little Roumanian Cousin 
Our Little Russian Cousin 
Our Little Scotch Cousin 
Our Little Servian Cousin 
Our Little Siamese Cousin 
Our Little Spanish Cousin 
Our Little Swedish Cousin 
Our Little Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Turkish Cousin 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


WORKS OF EVALEEN STEIN 

THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by Adelaide 

Everhart $1.50 

This story happened many hundreds of years ago in 
the quaint Flemish city of Bruges and concerns a little 
girl named Karen, who worked at lace-making with her 
aged grandmother. 

GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and 
decorated in colors by Adelaide Everhart . . $1.50 

“No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the 
elements that stir the hearts of children and grown-ups as 
well as do the stories so admirably told by this author.” 

— Louisville Daily Courier . 

A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by Diantha 

H. Marlowe $1.50 

u The story should be one of the influences in the life 
of every child to whom good stories can be made to 
appeal.” — Public Ledger. 

THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by John Goss $1.50 
“ This touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth 
of interest coupled with enlivening descriptions of the 
country where its scenes are laid and of the people thereof.” 

— Wilmington Every Evening. 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 

By Margaret R. Piper, author of “Sylvia Arden,” 
“ Sylvia of the Hill Top,” “ Sylvia Arden Decides,” etc. 
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.75 

“ It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy young 
folks, good times, natural development, and a gentle 
earnestness of general tone.” — The Christian Register , 
Boston . 

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